The Predecessor
by Satirrian
Summary: The year is 1341 C.E. Edward Elric, alchemist extraordinaire, finds himself completely at a loss. He's got this weird red serpent tattoo on his palm. Probably means nothing. And then there's Nicolas Flamel, whiny fourteen year old. Nicolas thinks Ed is insane. Ed thinks Nicolas is insane. Neither are wrong.
1. Chapter 1

**Story in the works. Probably will update after I have a bunch more chapters written. **

**Let me know if this is something you'd like to read! Believe me, reviews are about the most encouraging things I could receive, and the updates will definitely come faster. **

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_The Predecessor_

Satirrian

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_HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 1341 C.E._

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He felt like he was suffocating, so he took a breath. His chest rose, he gasped for air, and instantly the smell of blood was sucked into his body. He shivered and coughed and placed his right hand on the ground, trying to get up, but then he felt the sensation of gravel and rocks and he flinched, snatching his hand away.

He cracked his eyes open, one at time, and saw a canopy of green trees arranged in a halo of his body. The sun was just rising in the east and cast a shadow on his face. Using his left hand this time, he pushed himself into a sitting position.

In a tree clearing he found himself lying in a circle. It was a beautifully aligned alchemic array, artfully positioned with the sun that even now continued to rise. But something was wrong.

It was then that he realized that he was lying in a pool of blood, inky in the half-light. The circle itself, hard to see with the angular lighting, was etched with this very substance.

Suddenly recognizing the symbols, he started to hyperventilate. He brought his hand up to his mouth but found it was crusted over with brown and instantly snatched it away. He twisted his head, looking everywhere at once, eyes wide, taking in the trees, the small alterations in the seal he knew like the back of his hand, the bone-blue sky.

Suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore. He tried to stand up but failed. He glanced down. He was completely naked, devoid of scars, and missing his left leg. For some reason, he did not find his missing leg as odd as the reason he still had his right arm.

He did not know why he thought these things.

He fell onto his back and screamed, his hysteria finally getting the better of him.

In the sudden silence after his yell, he was finally able to make out the call of the birds in the forest over his rough breathing. The wind picked up and a couple leaves blew into his face, mere annoyances that he shook off. Except one wasn't and it landed near his ear with a thunk. With a shaking left hand, he picked it up.

It was some type of animal hide, easily too heavy for the wind to carry. Yet the wind carried it. Turning it over, he caught his breath. It was a note.

* * *

_Edward, my son, remember that I love you. Please find it in your heart to forgive me for my weakness._

_I am so sorry I could not bring Alphonse back. My life is only worth so much._

—_Your Father_

* * *

He dropped the note. He didn't want to think about it.

Ed closed his eyes and cried.

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He did not know how long he slept, but when he woke, the sun was setting. He was hungry, thirsty, and tired of being useless. Using his arms, he crawled out of the circle on his belly and set himself up against a tree. He rested there a moment.

He slowly became aware of a change in the atmosphere. The sky bled to twilight, and the birds stopped tweeting. He stilled, searching out the most minute sounds, and found the crunching of feet in a forest.

His desire to see somebody won over his suspicious nature.

"Hey! Hey! Is anyone out there?!"

The footsteps stopped and immediately resumed with haste.

It was two men, one in a brown tunic with a whip tied to his waist, the other, a younger man, seemed to be subservient to the first, dressed more humbly with matted dark hair.

The whip man reached the clearing and didn't seem very taken aback by it. The younger man was completely flabbergasted and fell onto his ass with a screech.

"Get up," the whip man commanded. "This was the place your village spoke of?"

"I— I— Yes. My ma had seen strange lights in the forest and she— but what happened here?!"

"That's none of your business."

The younger man swallowed and got himself to his feet only to sway and vomit into the bushes.

The whip man strode around the clearing, leaving the younger man to his vomiting, and reached the spot where Ed laid against a tree and immediately stopped. They looked at each other. Ed did not like what he saw.

Ed clapped his hands and brought them to the ground in one decisive movement. The blood sprinkled earth rose up to his will and buried the man up to his shoulders. Now all Ed had to do was run, but he couldn't, he couldn't think.

The whip man saw this and began to laugh, buried in the ground.

"I don't care what the hell you are, you little maggot," the man said, "but I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to me."

"I'd like to see you try," Ed hissed.

With a few muttered words, the whip man was suddenly flung out of the ground, crouching right next to the hole he was trapped in.

Ed blinked. "How did you—"

But the man ran at Ed full pelt. He tried to clap his hands together again, yet abruptly Ed found his entire body frozen in place.

The whip man stopped in front of Ed and unwound his weapon. "Not so tough now, eh?" He slashed the whip across Ed's chest and Ed could only grunt. The man did it again. And again. And again. Pretty soon Ed's chest felt like it should've been minced to a pudding, but it was miraculous. The instant after every gash, the wound would heal like new.

A minute after that discovery, Ed passed out from the pain.

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Ed studied the mark on his right palm, a red dragon biting its own tail. He slowly closed his hand, as if it pained him, and leaned back against the wood wagon, rocking with the motion of the horses, squinting from the glare of the sun at it's highest point. He shifted his right leg, moving his stump of a left into a better position, and caught the dark, slanted gaze of a short manish creature with the head of a globe, long fingers clenching the wood cage of the wagon.

"I'm Ed," he said to the pale creature.

"For now, I suppose." The wagon hit another bump and Ed swayed to the side. The creature broke eye contact and glanced at another man, completely naked and shredded to bits, curled up in the far corner. Ed had seen him stop breathing a while ago.

"You're not human," Ed said.

"Well, neither are you."

"Is anyone?"

The creature stopped looking at the dead man and focused on the green plains on either side of them. "Who do you think put us in this cage?"

Ed went silent. A large bearded man easily three times Ed's height was forced to walk behind the wagon in chains, and the silence was filled with the sound of his huge limping steps and the clinking of the metal. A spindly creature, smaller than the creature Ed spoke to, with a too big head and too big ears, coughed into the caged air.

"He couldn't be human. He used this invisible power— he—" Ed held up his two forearms and tried to bring them together, only to fall short barely a fingernails width from each other. His teeth ground, his face burned red, but his hands could not touch, no matter what he did. It was the most bizarre version of handcuffs he'd ever encountered. It's purpose was not to keep his hands together, rather, apart.

"He is one of those cursed humans. Born with _power_. Our power."

"I don't understand."

"You will."

"But I need to understand _now_."

"If your _understanding_ could buy your freedom, no wonder it isn't free."

Ed punched the wooden cage with his right hand, nearly sending the entire wagon on its side. "My understanding will buy _everyone's_ freedom," he snarled, brandishing his bloody fist.

Sudden silence. The giant had stopped walking and the horses had been brought to heel. The slave caravan leader hopped down, dressed in a brown tunic and leather, whip attached to his waist. He strolled over to Ed's position leaning against the side of the cage.

In a loud voice, the whip man commanded, "I said no talking." His eyes needled Ed's back.

"I wasn't," Ed muttered.

Suddenly Ed's entire arm was on fire and he opened his mouth to _scream_ only he forced himself to snap his jaw shut, strangling himself and his emotions, so the only thing that escaped was a high pitched whine as he felt his flesh liquefying to the point that he felt nothing.

The next moment the fire was gone. Ed didn't see his blackened twig of an arm, but he felt the flashes of red lightning under his eyelids, the excruciating feeling of layers and layers of cells rebuilding themselves.

Behind his heavy breathing, the whip man said, "Follow the crippled veela's lead and you know what's coming." Ed's nose was filled with the scent of burnt flesh.

After that, nobody spoke.

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Hours passed and the glare of the sun reached the mountain-line by the time the slave caravan reached it's destination. It was the town of a feudal lord, stone tower found directly in the center, surrounded by rows and rows of decrepit hovels. Despite that, the streets were made of stone, and the market was bustling with peasants.

The caravan was treated with much fanfare, almost like a circus that came to town. Ed saw women and children drop what they were doing to marvel at the huge bearded giant who was limping on a broken ankle behind him. The guards at the gate momentarily spoke to the leader, but after that, they were soon heading for the center tower.

Ed took a moment to wonder what he must've looked like to the peasants lining the streets. Blond and wild-looking, wearing only the rags he was able to steal off the dead man in the corner, missing a leg. Covered in his father's blood. But Ed was also the most humanoid slave of the bunch, like a monster wearing the skin of a man.

Ed turned his back on the people of the village, suddenly wishing he wasn't paraded around like a prize horse.

Arriving at the castle gates, the whip man spoke to a man with a red bald face who appeared to be a herald of some sort and was always fiddling with his hands.

"I really wasn't expecting you so soon, milord," the herald said.

"You'll take them?"

"As I said, milord, it was very unexpected."

"Lord Dominus put out a notice that he was accepting magical creatures of all sizes. You'll pay me for them."

"I— I would like to, milord, but I am not sure of my authority in the matter..."

"Then get someone who is."

The bald man disappeared into the gates and returned with someone who appeared to be capable and was dressed in green silk. The whip man and him soon worked out a deal that left both of them unsatisfied and guards were summoned who led the horses, and thereby the wagon, into the castle's courtyard. After that, Ed watched warily as a few guards approached the cart with the key to the cage door.

"Now all you bastards better not move an inch or you'll get ten lashes before the master can even reach ya," the guard warned. Ed obliged by shuffling closer to the door.

None of the guards seemed to register his movement, or, if they did, they didn't comment on it. The green silk man from before who argued with the whip man came over and watched the proceedings. The guards wrenched the door open and someone immediately hopped up into the cage. He grabbed the spindly creature with the bat-ish ears that reminded Ed of something he couldn't remember and threw it out to another guard who was equipped with metal cuffs; he professionally clipped them on.

The green silk man appraised the creature.

"Typical servant-elf. Very common these days."

"Yes, but useful. They'll do anything without complaint," the whip man responded.

"Master Dominius already has quite a few."

"Another can't hurt."

The guard in the wagon had grabbed a very pale and lanky humanoid with protruding fangs who looked dead and acted like it. He had stunk very powerfully during the entire time Ed was stuck with him.

"A vampire, my lord?"

"It was very difficult to capture. I expect special compensation," the whip man said.

"It was not I who commissioned the capture of these creatures."

"Yet you're the buyer."

"It is not my business how the capture went."

"It's a special piece, worth much more than you could pay."

There were three women with faces that were hideous to look upon and eyes that were completely black. Their lower faces were bound very tightly with cloth and leather and, Ed suspected, some of the stuff that bound his arms apart. That power. When the guard grabbed them, they convulsed and twitched and arched their backs as if they wanted to scream.

"Banshees?" the green silk man questioned, sounding genuinely impressed.

"Three," the whip man said proudly.

Finally the guard had cleaned out the left of the cage and turned to his right, immediately setting his eyes on Ed. Ed gave him a little smirk, just to be polite, and gestured to his missing leg. The guard winced and turned toward the dead man first. The dead man was actually perfectly human-looking, except for the dead part. He tossed the corpse outside and nobody caught it.

"What is this, you bring me dead merchandise?"

"It was a werewolf," the whip man grunted, "but he couldn't handle it."

The green silk man nodded but seemed vaguely dissatisfied regardless.

Finally the guard took the dome-headed creature Ed had spoken to before.

"It's dangerous to accept goblins these days," the green silk man hazarded. "Especially with the war."

"I'll give him to you half-price."

"Quarter."

"No less than half."

"Let us discuss this later."

Ed held out his arms like a child asking to be carried, as he was the last person in the cage. He gave a mischievous grin. The guard picked him up and Ed felt his muscles stretch from not having moved for so long. As he was roughly passed out to another man, Ed elbowed the guard in his stomach for the trouble. The guard immediately dropped him with a muffled "_Bastard!_" and Ed crashed to the ground. He laid on his back and refused to move.

"What type of creature is that?" The green silk man was sounding incapable for the first time since Ed had met him.

The guards set Ed up, cuffed him, and then dragged him over to where the other creatures were waiting in a line.

"I believe it's a veela."

"It cannot be; veelas are all female."

"A very rare offer then, I give you a male veela."

"I am telling you, that is not a veela. For all I know, it is a regular human. You are trying to sell me a regular human at a veela's price."

"I assure you, it's not human."

Ed cut in, "Yeah, listen to the guy." The guard smacked him in the back of his head with the hilt of his sword and Ed shut up.

The green silk man wrinkled his nose with displeasure. "This one has much impudence. You have not beaten it out of him?"

"I was going to explain, but perhaps I'll show it instead." The whip man detached his lash and stalked forward. Ed flinched but forced himself to keep eye contact, eyes defiant. In one quick movement, Ed's head rolled back with a crack, the serrated tip of the weapon slashing across his face from ear to ear. Blood showered down into his mouth before the wound stitched itself together in a alchemic flash. Though the wound disappeared, the blood remained.

"Though the healing is unusual," the green silk man said, clearly very interested, "we are still unsure of his species, and therefore he is not worth that much."

"There is more—"

"Enough. We will discuss value over dinner. For now, we will transfer the slaves to the pens." The green silk man turned away, the whip man in stride.

Ed spat blood at their retreating feet.

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Ed was one of the many slaves who couldn't walk. He raged at his powerlessness, at his disability, at the fact that he could heal any wound in seconds but it didn't matter because he _couldn't make a leg_, but that didn't fix the issue. So he swallowed his bile and let himself be helped.

However, he would much rather have accepted help for an escape attempt than for a trip to his jail cell.

The slave pens were actually just wooden structures reinforced with iron jutting out from the castle on the east side. There were perhaps dozens of cages lined up in three rows, where one could see clear across one column to another because the cages were only made of iron bars. The cages sometimes held one creature, sometimes more; it all depended on creature type and amount of space available, Ed decided.

The banshees were all put in a single cell, whereas the vampire was placed with what could only be a black emaciated horse with wings. Ed completely lost track of the goblin and the servant-elf. He himself was given his own cell, which he would've been more happy about if there was more privacy. Directly to his right was a large creature that was easily more than twice Ed's height (which wasn't very short, thank you very much) and had feet with two toes. To his left was an unidentifiable black shroud that made Ed uncomfortable.

Ed made careful note of the guards. All of those who escorted Ed and company left right after the cell doors were locked. There appeared to be one ring of keys that unlocked all the doors and it was kept in hand by the one guard on duty. Ed was unsure if that guard had other duties or was the permanent jailer.

Directing his attention towards his cell, the floors were made of stone, a conglomerate mix of limestone and something else that Ed would work out, and a wooden bucket was placed in the corner. Other than that, nothing.

He wondered if they ever cleaned out the bucket. He wondered if they would ever bring him food or water.

He wondered if he could use a broken rock to scratch a transmutation circle in the ground.

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**I do plan on continuing this story up to Harry Potter's timeline (with many timeskips of course, as that would take a hella long time. DO you see what time period I am starting this story in?).**

**Anyway.**

**You probably want to leave now.**

**Disclaimer: Each franchise is owned by their respective owners. I would list all the owners here, but quite frankly, I don't have the motivation. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, this certainly took a while. Here we have the introduction of Nicolas, a naive boy who is in way over his head. **

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The Predecessor

Satirrian

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FRANCE 1341 C.E.

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Sometimes bad things happened for little reason. It had been a year ago, now. He was just thirteen.

* * *

"_Nicolas turn away—"_

"_Run— AHHH—" Flashes of heat and sound. Hands holding him back, but he struggled. He had to get to them. Had to save Mom— Blood streaked down his cracked fingernails. What was the point if she died? What was the point of anything?_

* * *

As a young boy, he stood out in the tavern. Men still sober would glance his way, glowering under heavy brows and muttering to their buddies. The server masked her curiosity with businesslike politeness, and calmly asked him if he would like anything to drink.

"No," said Nicolas. "I'm looking for someone."

The curiosity snuffed out in the elderly woman's eyes. With a small twist of her lips, she reproached, "You can't stay if you don't buy anything."

"I'll just be a moment." Nicolas glanced around the small smoke-clogged space, arms tightly tucked.

The server crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, boy, but unless you get anything I can't—"

"Here." Nicolas slammed three coins on the table with too much force. For a mere instant, the bar went silent. Then it quickly picked up again as if nothing had happened. Maybe it was just Nicolas. "I'll have a glass of milk."

The server slipped the coins into her apron and quickly moved on to the next table. Nicolas was situated at an abandoned table in the back, the table being unwanted for its distance from the fire and its position right next to an open window. Rain splashed inside and soaked the wooden table, further darkening Nicolas' corner.

He hunched in on himself miserably. This bar was his only chance, he told himself. An untrained wizard like himself would burn like—

* * *

_The woman, if the dust could be called that, was nothing more than a black shadow against the overpowering power of the flame, the eyes and mouth nothing more than darker spots of black, forever wretched open in eternal agony. The sounds had long been swallowed by the roar of the fire._

* * *

The sooner Nicolas had control of his power, the better off he'd be. The better off everyone would be. As his older brother had said, "If a man is born with a sword on his back, but no one ever tells him what to do with it, he'll use that damn piece of metal to farm wheat."

Well, Nicolas was through with farming. His mother and brother were both gone and he was alone now. And he had to take care of himself.

The tavern door clanked open and a square-ish woman dressed in riding gear with a heavy cloak pulled over her head swaggered inside. Nicolas carefully observed her walk up to the server and demand an ale and some of whatever's on the stove. Surprisingly, the server didn't dally, immediately abandoning the man she was serving previously and hurrying into the back, steps rushed and fearful. The woman then stalked toward the best table in the house, near the fireplace but not _on_ the fireplace, and faced off the meanest group of men the tavern had to offer. Mercenaries, Nicolas thought.

"Pop a squat in the rain outside or fatso's blood," the woman grounded out, addressing the whole squad of men, and gestured specifically towards a scarred man with a grizzled beard who was clearly raving drunk based on his flushed face, "This area is mine."

Nicolas was taken aback. So were the mercenaries, and the one who the woman had picked on immediately flew to his feet.

"What the fuck does this little whore think she can get away with, eh?!" he slurred and groped underneath the table for his broadsword. Next thing he knew, a thin piece of wood slipped out of the blocky woman's cloak and was pressed tightly to his temple, held like a butcher's knife. Everyone seemed to have locked on to that little piece of wood. Everyone except for the single mercenary, that is.

The mercenary licked his bottom lip nervously, glancing down at the woman. "W-what? You think your little witchcraft can scare me?" He laughed then, a deep throaty chuckle. "I'm a knight of the great Lord Alban, _hero _of the Battle of Rivertown, and no _woman,_" he slurred, "is going to bring fear to my heart!"

The woman's face remained hidden behind her cloak, so Nicolas did not know how she took the mercenary's diatribe. But suddenly there was a minute tightening of her fist around the piece of wood, and the bearded man bonelessly collapsed to the ground, eyes rolled up into the back of his head.

Immediately a hush fell upon the revellers in the tavern. The woman spoke again, and her voice was as dry as the desert, "I'll spare the fool this time, as a show of faith to the Lord Alban. But next time think twice before you mess with a wizard of Lord Dominus' cohort."

The mercenaries, or knights, as it were (to Nicolas there really wasn't any difference), practically trampled themselves in their hurry to flee the tavern. They weren't alone. Nicolas estimated about half the bar cleared out in quick fashion, and those left behind were either in the process of walking out, too wasted or too dumb. Nicolas considered himself to be in the latter category.

Soon the server brought out a heaping plate of the very best the tavern had to offer and a glass of ale that was near overflowing. The server did not ask for payment and the woman did not offer any. Soon the server fled like all the others, and Nicolas considered it about time he made his move.

He pulled out the chair opposite the sturdy woman with a heavy heart.

"I'd think twice before you take a seat there, boy," she warned, not even looking up from her mutton, knife carefully picking the meat apart.

Nicolas was honestly thinking twice. "I need to speak with you," he said. He didn't sit down but kept his hand lying on the back of the chair awkwardly.

"And I'd like to be left in peace." The knight's body still laid on the floor by the woman's chair. It silently admonished Nicolas. _Leave this wasps nest alone. _

He couldn't. "That was a wand, wasn't it? And the spell you used— it had to be an sleeping spell? Silently cast. It couldn't have been a stunner because—"

The woman slammed the hilt of her knife onto the table and Nicolas jumped. "Who do you think you are, little gutter rat? Some kind of mage? You're _nothing. _You know _nothing,_" she spat, and Nicolas finally caught a glimpse of the woman's face. Half of it was marred by burn scars. Nicolas' stomach dropped onto the floor. He thought of another woman, about a year ago now, _burning… _

"I— that's why," he choked out. Suddenly he had trouble looking at the scarred woman. "I searched every town, every farmhouse between here and Brescia, for someone, anyone who can teach me wizardry, and I've hunted you down since I first heard the barest rumor about a Lord who hired witches to do his dirty work, and now you're _here_, and I beg of you _please! _Teach me magic!"

Nicolas heard the clanking of a knife hitting an empty plate. He dared to glance up and found that the woman's face was once again hidden. "It looks like you've got the wrong impression. You see, this here, this is no charity house for the magically inclined. This is a _job. _I'm not going to sacrifice my living for a brat's _whims."_

Nicolas tried to reign in his desperation. "Listen, all I ask is that you take me to this Lord Dominus fellow. He's sure to know someone who can teach me, right?"

"You want to meet Lord Dominus?" There was something off about the woman's tone of voice.

Nicolas didn't dwell on it. "Yes, please. I won't be any trouble." Nicolas recognized with a sinking heart that the woman was _stubborn_. There was no way the woman would accept his request, not in a million years.

"Well, it's clear you have magic. I can sense it. Lord Dominus won't find you a complete waste." Nicolas blinked. He blinked again. Did she really say what he thought she did?

She must've, because next thing Nicolas knew he was smiling like a happy drunk."Yes, thank you, sir, you won't regret this!" He wanted to shake her hand in appreciation, but both her hands were wrapped inside her cloak.

The woman snorted. "Call me Josse. What should I call you, brat?"

"Just Nicolas. Nicolas Flamel."

The woman Josse pushed back her chair and stood up. Her height and girth intimidated Nicolas as he felt her shadow block out the poor candlelight. "I guess here is as good as any," she muttered. "Grab on, Flamel." She pulled out what looked like an animal bone from inside her dark cloak and tightly wrapped her fist around it. It looked like the femur of a medium sized dog.

Nicolas swallowed. "What is it?"

"Doesn't matter. Grab it."

His natural joy of finally finding a magic instructor clashed immediately with his cautiousness. His brother always told him not to take any risks unless he was playing cards. "What will it _do_, though?"

"_You_ came to _me_, not the other way around, brat! I don't give a whore's tit whether you grab it or not! Either you do or you don't!"

Some sweat trickled down Nicolas' forehead. _This must be a test of some sort,_ he thought. _I need to do this. If I'm going to take care of myself, I need to do this. _He reached out and placed his smaller hand next to the wide gloved one of the woman's.

Suddenly, he felt his entire being fill with magic in a way he had never before experienced. Imaginary tendrils reached out and scooped up his core and then closed in around him like a giant fist. Then he was physically _thrown_ like a rock, and he was soaring, helplessly twisting and turning. Underneath him the grassy ground came rushing up, and before he could comprehend it, he slammed face first into dirt.

Distantly, he recognized the shape of the woman standing nearby, perfectly composed.

"What _was _that?!" Nicolas groaned, spitting out a blade of grass.

"You'll learn soon enough. That is, if you live that long. Now get up. I've got things to do."

Nicolas threw himself up on his haunches and was thrown by the scene he saw. Gone was the dismal atmosphere of the tavern in Cormar, instead he stood perched on a grassy hill over looking a small town with a sturdy looking stone tower marked dead center. The sky overhead was thick with clouds, but it was otherwise dry weather.

"Say, this isn't that Lord Dominus fellow's domain, is it?"

The woman's cloaked head turned his way and then back to the village. "I thought you had a mind in that head, but I should've known better. You asked me to teach you magic, after all." With a dark chuckle, she purposely made her way down to the gates. Nicolas hurried to catch up.

They were able to walk into town unmolested. Nicolas knew the woman was well known by the villagers, because they all seemed to create a path for the bulky woman to pass. Nicolas tried to make eye contact with a few people, but they all dropped his gaze.

The castle gates were guarded by two ferocious looking men who looked like they were sharing their own personal joke whenever they looked at Nicolas.

"Good work, Josse," one said to the witch as she neared. "Have you gotten better at mind magic?" The guard glanced to his companion and hid a smirk.

"I don't have the time for you two," the woman snarled, and with a flick of her wrist, she opened the gate herself. Nicolas followed her inside to the laughter of the guards at his back. For a brief second, he considered running back out, but then the guards were sliding the gate closed again and Nicolas refound his resolve.

The woman's hand shot out and stopped him from entering the tower. "Wait here," she snapped. Nicolas opened his mouth to argue, but the woman had already swept inside, black cloak whipping like smoke.

Nicolas brought his hands together and looked around. In-between the castle gates and the castle entrance was a good stretch of barren land, presumably for sieging purposes. Distantly he could the wailing of an animal he'd never encountered before. Glancing up, he tried to tell how much time had passed but the sky remained overcast and indeterminable. He looked back down.

The clanking of metal to the rhythm of a march brought him out of his musings and he glanced to his right. A guard squad of five men had been detached from the wall and were making his way here. He tried to keep his calm and moved to the side, trying to stay out of their way.

Suddenly his worry reached new heights as the squad reached his area and formed around him. Nicolas cleared his throat. "I'm not an intruder, I came with a woman, a lady, um. Her name was Joceline? She was a witch," he explained.

"Yeah, buddy, we know," said a guard who had snuck behind him. Nicolas practically flung himself around, wide eyed. After that, he must've been blindsided with the hit of someone's sword, because he felt a brief but intense pain and he didn't remember much else.

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Everything seemed to hurt, but what hurt the most was his thoughts, so Nicolas tried to lay still and not think too much.

Dark voices seemed to swim around him.

"_Fresh witch blood— "_

"_It's better when they're children, I hear."_

"_The magic is more potent—"_

"_Yes."_

"_Concentrated."_

"_Not too much, easy easy—"_

Something wet slid down his arm.

"_AH!"_

"_Too much!" _

"_Another wasted!"_

"_It always happens this way."_

"_Get some more vials!"_

"_Just throw him out—"_

The voices started to blend together, but one more line caught his attention.

"_He'll live for now."_

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**As you can see, person with eyes, Nick meets the illustrious Edward Elric in the next installment. But I actually haven't seen Fullmetal Alchemist in a pretty long time so if any of you want to be an angel and give me some characterization tips, I WILL SHOUT YOUR USERNAME TO THE HEAVENS WITH FONDNESS!**

**As for Nick, well, I'm just making him up as I go. **

**Tell me how you feel about this chapter in a review! And thanks again!**


	3. Chapter 3

**LAST TIME: **

**Ed gets captured by magical creature slave traders and sold to a mysterious Lord Dominus. Captured in an animal cage surrounded by various magical creatures, Ed is under a spell that prevents him from clapping. **

**Poor Nicolas Flamel, tricked by a woman he hoped would teach him magic, instead is caught and harvested for blood. **

**And NOW:**

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The Predecessor

Satirrian

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LORD DOMINIUS' DOMAIN, HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 1341 C.E.

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Feeling so dizzy that his mind felt like a cloud caught in a storm, Nicolas cracked his eyes open in a dark and dank place, laid flat against damp stone. Nicolas' eyes swam with water and he blinked them shut. Slowly, he became aware of another presence sizing him up from nearby. The scrutiny felt so strong that he felt compelled to level himself up, to make himself less of a target. The instant he tried to do so, black spots converged over his eyes and he collapsed back onto to the floor, breathing heavily.

A boy's scratchy voice whipped out from practically right next to his ear, "Oi, don't strain yourself there, tiger."

Nicolas was confused, and instead of trying to sit up, settled with merely turning his head. Leaning casually against the metal bars was a young man, a boy really, with one arm wrapped around his right leg, the other tapping the ground. His wild blond hair was matted with dirt and blood, and most of it had trouble staying out of the boy's face.

"Tell me, what's a tiger?" Nicolas asked.

The stranger frowned and stopped tapping with his left hand. He brought it up and fruitlessly tried to push his hair back. "Oh you know, big claws, orange stripes, rahhh?" He imitated a clawing motion with his other hand.

Nicolas' brow furrowed.

"Oh nevermind," the stranger said. The boy quickly glanced outside the cage and narrowed his eyes at something he saw. He turned back to Nicolas and spoke cheerfully, "I'm Ed, by the way."

Nicolas was completely overwhelmed, but remembered pleasantries regardless. "I'm Nicolas Flamel." The odd exchange of names was so normal that Nicolas could almost forget where he was.

"Nicolas, eh?" the stranger— Ed was his name, apparently— said. "Too long. How's Nicky?"

Nicolas blinked tiredly. "I'm sorry?"

"No? Then what about Nick? Ed and Nick. Yeah, that's got a pretty good ring—" suddenly Ed's attention flew to something going on outside the cage, and Nicolas was seemingly forgotten.

A squad of five men burst inside the prison complex— guards, the lot of them. They followed what looked like the jailer, a skinny man with a hooked nose, to the cage right next to Nicolas. To his surprise, it housed a mountain troll. He'd only read about those before.

Nicolas opened his mouth to comment on it, but Ed shot him a murderous look and he stopped.

"I'll put him under a compulsion to follow you," the jailer hissed. "It should mostly prevent it from scooping out your insides, unfortunately."

Nicolas thought he was a very _charming_ man. The guards remained reticent, almost ignoring the jailer's statement altogether. With a huff and a flick of the jailer's wrist, the iron gate immediately to their side creaked open. The guards professionally marched inside, surrounding the mountain troll, corralling it outside, marching it towards the exit. The jailer shut the prison door again and retreated down the aisle.

Nicolas glanced nervously at his cell mate. Ed was watching the jailer retreat, but as soon as the jailer settled down again in his sturdy wooden chair and picked up a dirty glass bottle, Ed turned back around and resumed his guarded position. He contemplated Nicolas' face for a moment, his mouth slowly forming into a smirk. "Go on, throw your questions at me, Nicky," he nodded.

Nicolas blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "That was a mountain troll!" Fruitlessly, he craned his neck around and found creatures he'd only ever imagined, locked in small iron boxes just like the one he was in, side by side. He recognized the creatures from his mother's books— thestrals and goblins (prisoners of war, perhaps), servant-elves and banshees, two hippogriffs chained bloody and — was that a mermaid tail sticking out of a tiny wooden bucket? That didn't begin to cover the things Nicolas didn't recognize, one of which was the black smoke-ish puddle in the cell to his left.

Ed responded without much interest. "Is that what it was? I swear each of these names are as ridiculous as the next."

Nicolas found that his dizziness had retreated some and he sat up. He glanced down at himself, finding his tunic covered in dirt and dried brown patches. He reached up his left hand and felt at his scruffy dark hair, finding it matted with blood in a spot on the back of his head. "I— I don't know what happened. I was supposed to meet someone but then— I don't know."

"Ah, that's life, kid."

Nicolas shot a heated glare at Ed (the stranger was practically his same age and he called Nicolas a kid?) which Ed met coolly before finally dropping his gaze. "I—" Nicolas' voice cracked and he tried again. "Please tell me where we are."

After a brief hesitation, Ed drawled, "Wellll. I don't know much. Truth is, I probably know less than you, loathe as I am to admit it. Some guy using some _power _collected me and some other freaks and towed us around town like his own personal circus. Then he dumped us here for some cash and got the hell out." Ed shrugged, trying to look perfectly calm. "Now, Nicky old pal, I've got a question for _you_."

Nicolas instantly snapped, "It's Nicolas," but otherwise stayed quiet, turning over Ed's story. It sounded like Ed had been taken from his home and imprisoned— not all too strange, Nicolas had to admit. Families in debt often sold their children, horrendous as the practice was. But the idea of Ed being captured along with all these magical creatures was suspicious. What use would a collector of magical creatures have with an ordinary person?

Ed tried moving his hair again, and asked, "Now what does a freak collector like Dominus want with a regular old vanilla human like yourself?"

Nicolas' eyes widened, memories flashing before his eyes. Ed's words reflected exactly what he was thinking, regardless of Ed's strange vocabulary making it hard to understand. "I can't believe it," he said.

"Believe what?" Ed barked.

"I walked right into this," Nicolas whispered, almost to himself. Then, louder, voice raising in tone, "I can't believe I walked right into this _I am such a fool!_" Nicolas threw his face into his hands.

After a small amount of time, Nicolas heard shuffling and a hand hesitantly came down on his arm, awkwardly patting once. Nicolas raised his head and found that Ed had moved closer, so close in fact that he could finally see his eyes drawn up in worry, his _yellow_ eyes with a black pupil that was slit like a cats— and Nicolas flinched backward, away from Ed's touch.

An expression crossed Ed's face almost like he was hurt, but it was gone and Nicolas doubted its existence. "W-what are you?" Nicolas demanded.

Ed sat back and frowned. "Why don't I ask you that first."

"Me?" Nicolas squawked. "You're the one with eyes like— like that!"

"Eyes? What, are they bloodshot or something?" Ed used his left hand to lower his bottom eyelid, sticking out his tongue.

Nicolas didn't find it as amusing as Ed did. "I'm being serious!"

"And you're _serious_ly overreacting."

"No, I'm not! I am bloody terrified, beaten, bruised, and locked in an animal cage! If anything, I'm too calm! You're the one who's reacting strangely!"

Ed snapped his mouth shut and was quiet.

Breathing heavily, Nicolas coughed, "Just— just what are you?"

Instead of answering, Ed turned his face to the side, casting it into shadow. "I think I've got it now," he said.

Nicolas waited for him to answer.

"Yeah, you're one of them," Ed continued.

Nicolas blinked. One of them? One of what?

"One of what?"

Ed sighed out a deep breath. Slowly, painfully, he held out his two arms. "There's a —curse or something, I don't know, on my hands. You do this stuff for a living— break it."

Nicolas' heart skipped a beat.

"You want me to _what_?"

Ed's eyes flared as he turned to face Nicolas head on. "I _want_ you to break this damned curse before I break your damn stick-ish arms, ya hear me?"

Under the full brunt of Ed's concentrated malice, there was no doubt in Nicolas' mind that Ed could break his arms— easily, even— and then use Nicolas' own bones to carve him up. He felt his blood freeze. Frantically, he whispered, "I— I don't—"

"You damn well _do!" _Ed growled.

Nicolas' breathing increased and his hands shook, while the icy feeling sank into his heart. He was horrified to find his vision turn watery. It was too much.

Then Ed was right in front of him, right hand holding him up from the front of Nicolas' tunic, choking him, and snarled right in Nicolas' face. "_Break. It."_

And break Nicolas did, as he collapsed into a sob.

Distantly, Nicolas was aware that Ed had dropped him like the plague, and had retreated into the far corner, once again taking up his guarded position.

Nicolas laid on his side and curled his legs up to his chest. Ed did not try to comfort him again.

It must have been a short while, because Nicolas never allowed his emotions to overtake him for long. The shaking had turned into an unnoticeable tremor and his breathing had evened out, at least enough for him to face his current predicament.

He started at the sound of Ed's voice. "Hey, how old are you, kid?"

Sniffling, Nicolas propped himself up. "Old enough," he said.

The hard tone had never retreated from Ed's voice. "I asked you a question."

Nicolas wanted to respond with: _So did I_, but he knew better, now. "Fourteen."

Something about Nicolas' answer must've meant something to Ed, because he flinched and spent the next few minutes studying the jailer and his glass bottle, refusing to acknowledge Nicolas. The taut lines of Ed's body and the way he sat hunched over himself seemed vulnerable, somehow. Nicolas couldn't explain it.

Before he knew it Nicolas was speaking up. "I don't think I can reverse the spell on you, but maybe I can identify it."

Ed whipped around with an incredulous look. "Really?!"

Nicolas nodded hesitatingly and moved over so he could better see. Ed held his arms out willingly enough, palms up. Nicolas spared a brief glance at the red mark on his palm, but otherwise focused entirely on the effects of the spell. "So, um, what does it do?"

"Prevents my hands from touching, see." Ed demonstrated by trying to clap his hands together, only to fall short, as if he'd hit a stone wall.

Nicolas swallowed. "Well, that sounds like a basic repulsion spell. Although it's unlike anything I've seen before, and why anyone would cast it…" Nicolas glanced nervously up at Ed and swallowed again. His throat was very dry. "I'd need a wand to undo it."

Ed's face scrunched up. "A wand?"

Nicolas gestured, trying to think of a good way to explain. "A wand is a— a magical conduit, so to speak."

Ed's face lit up like Nicolas had just made him king. He laughed, "That— that actually makes sense!"

Quite frankly, Nicolas was used to strange responses from Ed by now, so rather than comment on it, he decided to move on. "I've never really used a wand," he said hesitantly, "but I'm sure it can't be too hard." _I hope,_ he thought.

Ed's eyebrows came down into a hard line. "What does a wand look like?"

"A wand is chiefly made up of a certain wood surrounded by a magical core taken from an ancient creature of magic."

Ed frowned, his earlier joy completely vanished. "Well, there goes all the logic," he muttered. "So it looks like a stick?"

"Typically," Nicolas assured, though he'd only seen one wand in his entire life.

"Great," Ed said. "You're coming with me."

Nicolas blinked, lost. "I'm sorry?"

Ed grinned viciously, "I think it's about time we blow this joint, don't you?"

Nicolas arrived at the conclusion that Ed was allowing him to come along when he broke out of the prison. "Uh, how?"

If anything, Ed just smiled wider. "Like this," and he slammed his left hand down on the ground, over what appeared to be a scratched circle.

The world lit up with blue lightning. Arcs flew up the iron metal gate, and twisted the cage, turning it into an ornate double-door worthy of palaces. More arcs of lightning shot off and built two elongated stick-ish contraptions, which Ed immediately took up and arranged underneath his arms as he stood on his one leg.

Nicolas found himself still sitting on the floor, his mouth probably hanging open. Ed turned the handle of the new door and it swung open into the corridor with ease. Ed had hobbled half out the door with some difficulty before he turned back, realizing Nicolas hadn't moved.

"C'mon, Nick, we've got about ten seconds before the jailer and every guard in fifty meters comes running and I doubt I can fight them all." Ed threw down his hand, and Nicolas found himself taking it.

"You're insane," Nicolas said.

Ed smiled, and Nicolas smiled back.

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**It's been awhile, no? How was Ed's characterization? Tell me your thoughts below!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This update came pretty fast, huh? Sometimes you just get in the writing groove. Well. Anyways. Let's see what Ed's been thinking, shall we?**

**LAST TIME: Nick meets his new cell mate, Ed, and finds out he is insane as he begins a crazy attempt to break out of the prison. **

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* * *

The Predecessor

Satirrian

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_LORD DOMINUS' DOMAIN, HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 1341 C.E._

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Ed had been trapped for less than a day and he already felt as jittery as a bug stuck in a lantern. _He had to hurry. _After a few cursory glances at his new inmates, his mind had plodded along its logic track and had gradually arrived at the conclusion that when a man kept a circus of experimented and bizarre creatures in his backyard, it must be for a reason. Ed wanted nothing to do with this reason, of that he was sure.

Especially when said man considered Ed to be one of those bizarre creatures, ripe for experimentation.

Ed's right hand wrapped around the iron bar of his cage so tightly that the rough edge scratched his palm and he quickly snatched it away. He sat and marvelled at the unique sensation of pain as the scratch vanished before his eyes. There was that red mark again, nagging at a memory just beyond Ed's reach. An irrational urge to rip the skin off his palm nearly overwhelmed him, so he closed his hand.

Memories— Ed knew he had them. He knew his name, Ed. Edward. Shouldn't there be something else, after his name? Yes, a family name. Ed must have a family. Intellectually, families were made up of a mother and a father and a bunch of laughing, screaming kids. Ed definitely had a father— where else would that note come from? Where was that man now? Had he abandoned Ed to be sold into the slave trade— beaten Ed to a pulp and left him in a clearing to be picked up later?

And what of that Alphonse character— did Ed know him?

He found it easier to escape using his practical memory of alchemy and science than to wonder about why his heart hurt so much right then. He had found a sharp rock soon enough and a couple of experimental scratches showed it would leave enough of a mark to serve his purposes. Feeling along the ground, Ed corroborated his earlier guess of limestone and plain dirt.

The circle was nearly finished when they brought the kid in. There were just two guards this time; the kid was dragged limply by his arms, head down. Ed watched as they approached the thin jailer and talked in low tones. The jailer frowned nastily and walked down Ed's aisle, eventually stopping right in front of his cage door.

The jailer curled his lip down at Ed, revealing his brown and rotting teeth, and snarled, "I'll put 'em in here. One Leg couldn't hurt a damn bug."

Ed's motor-mouth was running before he even registered it. "Oh yeah? How about you let me out of here and then we'll see who can't hurt what _from your fucking hospital bed!"_

The jailer seemed to go from all consuming contempt to confusion faster than Ed could believe. He quickly covered it up with more contempt and simply held up an arm and flicked out a wooden stick, barely a forearms length. "I'll stun the insane maggot while you throw the pig in," he drawled.

Ed did not like the sound of that. His left hand had been hovering over his array, ready to spring it as soon as the door opened. But the jailer flicked the stick, and Ed was a prisoner in his own flesh. Ed wished he could incinerate people with his eyes— just a snap, and then _fwoosh_—

—_a brief flash of a dark silhouette against roaring flame, white glove poised—_

Ed blinked, but the image was gone, and now was not the time to ponder whether his imagination had thrown up an image or if a memory had regurgitated. Instead, the dark-haired kid laid sprawled on his back in the middle of Ed's cage, and the guards had strolled off after relocking the gate. The jailer still stood outside in the aisle and, with another flick, gave Ed the common courtesy of controlling his own body. Ed instantly leaned forward with a huge breath, and the jailer dismissed him with more contempt than Ed thought possible.

Taking in his new cellmate, Ed thought he looked a sorry sight. Dried blood ran all along his shirt and breeches, and it looked like he'd rolled down a muddy hill, judging by the dirt that covered him entirely. Scooting a little closer, Ed tried to guess his age, but only came up with younger than him but not too much younger. Ed came to a sudden realization.

The kid was horribly, completely, and utterly human. He shouldn't be here, locked in a cage with freaks. A sudden tenderness came over Ed that he didn't understand, and he gently moved a lock of hair out of the kid's forehead. Suddenly, the kid groaned softly, as if awoken by Ed's gesture, and Ed flew back, leaning against the bars.

It was several minutes before the kid did wake up, and when he did, another stab of worry flew through Ed. Before he could stop himself, he said, "Oi, don't strain yourself there, tiger."

* * *

Now that Ed had someone to talk to, incarceration wasn't half as anxiety-inducing. Of course, Nick— that was the kid's name— was also useful in his own way. Ever since Ed had woken up in that clearing, he'd been under the constant impression that everyone had a script to follow and Ed was just a stagehand who had hopelessly wandered over to the actors. Nick seemed to be aware of this script, at least a little bit, and it would be the smart move for Ed to attach himself to someone like that.

Nick wasn't like those other people Ed had met with the weird powers. Ed felt he could trust him, and that was good enough.

The time finally came for the jailer to go packing. Ed had been taking careful note of all the man's actions during his conversation with Nick, and he estimated it was just about sun-down. The jailer must have quarters somewhere near the cages where he would go to rest while a night guard took his place. The idea was to wait for the night guard. Without the ability to clap his hands, he'd be severely limited in fighting power. Ed hoped that the night guard wouldn't have any of that weird magic, like the jailer. Ed didn't think he could take the jailer, not with hand-to-hand.

There— the jailer stood up and walked to the doors to exchange words with someone outside. The jailer left. For a very brief moment, nobody was watching the prisoners.

"Great," Ed said. "You're coming with me."

Nick blinked his owlish eyes. Really, he had this look that made him perpetually curious. "I'm sorry?"

The adrenaline started to kick him into high gear. "I think it's about time we blow this joint, don't you?"

If anything, Nick looked even more confused. Ed got the feeling that he didn't understand some of Ed's words. With great skepticism, Nick said, "Uh, how?"

The time was now. Pressing his hand down onto the array, Ed wasn't even paying attention as he said, "Like this." The transmutation was almost so routine by now that it only took a bare minimum of concentration before his exit had opened up. While he was at it, he threw in some crutches, seeing as he didn't have his automail—

—_a wrench was thrown at his head and he was so scared but this was who she was and he loved it— _

—Another image flew through his head, but he dismissed it. Already the creatures started to bleat, roar, and scream. Looks like he would have even less time than he originally estimated. Clumsy with the crutches and knowing that he had used them a long time ago but unable to remember when, Ed noted that Nick hadn't moved.

"C'mon, Nick, we've got about ten seconds before the jailer and every guard in fifty meters comes running and I doubt I can fight them all." Ed threw out his hand without thinking.

To Ed's surprise, Nick actually took it. Stunned, Nick said, "You're insane."

_I'm only as insane as the world you find me in,_ Ed thought. He spared a moment to flash a toothy grin.

Shyly, Nick smiled a little back.

Getting along with the kid was all well and good, but really, escape took priority. Once Nick was wrenched to his feet, Ed grabbed his crutches again and staggered forward as best as he could. Shouting came from outside the door— a bunch of men— guards, most likely. It was followed by the clanking of metal on metal and stomping boots. The single exit would soon be completely barricaded. The jailer would probably run back.

"Okay, new plan!" Ed shouted to Nick and hopped down to the jailer's old sturdy chair. He started frantically searching along the wall.

"What're you doing?!" Nick asked.

Ed didn't have time for this. "The jailer must still have the keys. Damn it! We need a distraction!"

It was at that precise moment that a squad burst onto the scene. Ed picked up one of his crutches and dove at the leading man, taking him by surprise. He toppled easily to the ground under his armor, tripping up everyone behind him. Putting the older man into a choke hold with his crutch, Ed hissed between clenched teeth, "Try to find a back way out, Nicky!"

"I can't! The entire place's warded! There is only one way out!"

The guard tried to buck out of his hold and Ed pulled on his crutch harder, making the man pass out. Another guard got his bearings enough to pull his sword and try to dive at Ed's back. "That would've been good to know _before _we broke out!" Ed quickly let go of his crutch and rolled away from the passed out guard, coming up on one knee and hand. The sword passed harmlessly through air.

Nick's panicked voice reached Ed again. "I'll— I'll use my magic somehow to— to—"

The guard ran forward with a wide sweep of his sword and Ed jumped forward, under the lunge, and grabbed his arm, holding him still. Snarling, the guard brought his knee up into Ed's abdomen and Ed buckled, dropping the guard's arm. His sword instantly fell on Ed's waiting back, driving deep.

"_ED!" _A young voice cried out in anguish, and for a second Ed thought it was…

Reality crashed back and Ed barked to Nick between bloody lips, "_Distraction! Cages!" _He didn't wait to see if Nick understood what he meant, Ed twisted his whole body, causing the sword to rip open half his back as he rolled out to the side. Red lightning flashed, illuminating the path of another guard trying to attack Ed from the other side. Without both his legs, he was limited in action as both guards converged.

Abruptly a squat creature with a dome head barreled into the guard at the left, grabbing onto his leg and forcing the guard to fall onto his face. The creature then put the guard's arm into a hold, snatching up the sword as it fell limp from his grasp. Ed barely processed it as he focused on the approach of the guard on the right. The guard's sword darted in quick for Ed's chest, and Ed let it, grabbing the sharp edge with his right hand before it could go too deep. Momentarily, he was surprised it hurt, but he pushed past the pain.

They stood there, locked into place, until a black emaciated horse with wings head-butted the guard into the wall. The guard had dropped his sword, and Ed picked it up now, trying to take in the situation.

It was absolute chaos. Somehow, every cage door had opened, and now black horses were stampeding next to hybrid creatures of eagle and lion, a giant manish brute swung an arm and tiny spindly things went flying while a white lanky pale man swooped down the aisles, hissing.

"Nick!" Ed yelled, trying to find the dark-haired kid.

"You'll find your wizard pet over there, Defiant One."

Ed turned back to the squat dome headed creature, who suddenly looked familiar. He remembered he was called a goblin, and he had met him in the wagon. The goblin now pointed to the far corner where the final guard converged on someone small. _Nick. _A protective streak flew through him faster than he could blink and he snatched up his crutch, using it to vault onto the back of the black skeletal horse that had saved him a moment ago.

The horse creature seemed to understand his desire and it galloped at full speed back toward Nick, parting the wild mass of panicking creatures. The guard had his sword raised, about to cut into Nick when Ed arrived, the horse creature rearing onto it's hind legs and planting it's hooves into the guards armor. Ed threw out his arm to the cowering boy. "Hop on, Nick!" The kid didn't question it, just grabbed onto Ed's arm and let himself be swung behind Ed.

"Now head toward the doors!" Ed yelled toward the horse. Luckily, the horse obliged, once again galloping toward their exit. Ed still held the sword, and he brandished it in one hand.

The way seemed clear, until the thin, hook-nosed form of the jailer materialized into the doorway, arm already half-raised.

"Shit!" Ed cursed and tried to duck down behind the horse, hoping Nick had the sense to follow suit. They were helpless against the man's magic. It seemed like the escape would end right there, the piece of wood held in the man's hand— a wand, Ed belatedly recognized— already twitching, when a sword came up and cleanly sliced the jailer's hand right off.

The goblin proceeded to stab his stolen sword right into the jailer's flailing neck, pulling the man to the ground. Ed felt violently sick. The black horse creature was nearly over the goblin now, and time seemed to slow as Ed met his glimmering black eyes. "We goblins bow to no one, not even wizards."

Then they were out and over the jailer's now bleeding out body, into a courtyard with more guards running from all directions.

Nick snapped right into Ed's ear, "Thestrals can fly, Ed! Tell it to fly!"

Ed was reminded of the horse creature's batish wings. Taking Nick's word, he yelled, "Fly, damn you, fly!"

And fly the creature did, spreading out it's long dark wings and flapping once, twice, and into the air, climbing up and over the guard's heads, into the dark cold night. The horse's wings beat out a soothing rhythm and Ed found himself breathing heavily, the hand holding the sword shaking slightly.

"Well," Ed found himself saying between breaths, "that didn't go as planned." The wind whistled through his hair, blowing it all over the place. He wished he could tie it back.

Nick rested his forehead onto Ed's back and huffed, "You didn't have a plan in the first place."

Ed couldn't deny it. "I'm a spur of the moment kinda guy."

Nick huffed out a breathy laugh and it warmed Ed's heart.

Ed watched the scenery pass far below them, dark forests and mountains. Once he saw the starlit sky reflected right back at him and he knew it was a still lake.

"How did you do it?" Ed asked. "How'd you open all the cages?"

Nick was silent at first, but eventually he said, "I don't know. My mom would have said it was accidental magic. That's what happens when wizards are untrained."

Nick had sounded so dejected when he said his last sentence that Ed couldn't help saying, "Well, it's a good thing you're untrained or it wouldn't have happened at all."

"If I was trained I wouldn't have been _captured_ at all!"

Apparently, Ed had said the wrong thing. "Then all we gotta do is get you trained up, yeah? We still gotta get rid of this curse on my hands."

"You're right, Ed, I've completely forgotten! I'm sorry— that jailer had a wand, we should've—"

Ed did not want to be reminded of the jailer. "Don't worry about it, Nicky. There'll be other wands."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. As soon as this thing lands, we'll find you the best teacher in the land."

"You just want that curse off."

"That's an added bonus."

They lapsed into companionable silence, until Nick broke it with a nervous question. "Um, Ed?" he asked. "Do you have any idea where the thestral is taking us?"

"No clue," Ed said.

They flew on.

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**Many thanks to all my reviewers, especially those who I can't reply to! It really means a lot to know that people enjoy this story. After all, why would I write it? Tell me your thoughts on the exhaustive action in this chapter! Writing action just makes me tired out... too much thinking. Or maybe it's from writing from Ed's point of view. He _is_ supposed to be a genius, after all. I have to step up. Actually, I think I'm tired because it's two o'clock in the morning.**

**I think this wraps up the Imprisoned mini-arc. We'll be moving onto something else now, mainly, Nick's search for a teacher. **

**Please leave a review on your way out!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Dead I am not.**

**LAST TIME:**

**Edward Elric and Nicolas Flamel flew away into the sunset on a stolen thestral.**

**_"...As soon as this thing lands, we'll find you the best teacher in the land."_**

**_"You just want that curse off."_**

**_"That's an added bonus."_**

**_They lapsed into companionable silence, until Nick broke it with a nervous question. "Um, Ed?" he asked. "Do you have any idea where the thestral is taking us?"_**

**_"No clue," Ed said._**

**_They flew on._**

**AND NOW:**

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The Predecessor

Satirrian

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_SOUTHERN FRANCE 1341 C.E._

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The first light of dawn was a relief as the thestral began to descend. Ed had reached a state of exhaustion so profound that he was certain that he could sleep through a second kidnapping, maybe even a third. Staying on top of a wild magical horse-thing, as Ed referred to it, for over nine hours straight with one leg and a kid holding onto him like a life-line was extremely tiring, even for him.

Conversation had petered off within the second hour. Ed lost track of whether Nick was still conscious. Shaking his shoulders a little bit, Ed croaked, "Nick. Nick, we're going down."

Ed felt Nick respond in movement, but nothing else. He watched as the thestral aimed at a clearing in a forest. Bracing himself as they flew beneath the tree line, Ed's entire body shook violently as they hit the ground.

He pried his arm off the creature's neck and released the sword he still held, gracelessly flopping to the earth, taking Nick with him. Nick released an unholy screech and Ed would have laughed at him— if only he had the energy. Instead, Ed simply pushed Nick to the side and sprawled onto his back, half-lidded eyes taking in the morning pink sky. The thestral wandered off to the edge of the clearing.

They laid in silence, just appreciating the earth for what it was. Turning his head, Ed saw that Nick was already half-asleep. Throwing himself into a sitting position, Ed whacked Nick with the back of his hand, "Get up. We can't stay here."  
Nick mumbled something incoherent and Ed sighed, forcing his tired mind to function, eyes idly tracking the ground. The dirt. Loose enough to draw accurately. Ed couldn't travel efficiently without a prosthetic. Automail was beyond his reach.

Ed's attention was drawn to the sword he had inadvertently taken. It looked like it contained some good metal, easy enough to break down. He forced himself to sit up. Clearing a section of the earth with his forearm, he muttered, "Need some damn clothes too." And he began to sketch.

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The blackness gave way to a stranger's voice. "Oi, Nicky, it's time to move out. You can't pass out on me."

Nicolas was reluctant to return. He knew that once he did, he would have to remember.

Someone grabbed hold of his shoulders and shook him violently until he cracked his eyes open. Ed was kneeling over him. Somehow he'd gotten hold of a long brown coat, thin white shirt and brown trousers. Tied with a piece of fabric to his waist was a small knife. He'd managed to pull most of his hair into a tail at the back of his head.

"Why— where did you get the clothes?"

Instead of answering, Ed stood up, revealing a piece of metal jutting out of his left trouser leg.

"On second thought, better question," Nicolas exclaimed. "How can you stand?"

Rolling his eyes a little bit, Ed said, "Well, what do you expect? I'm not going to bum around while I wait for your lazy ass to get up."  
Indignant, Nicolas snapped, "But you didn't wait for me to get up at all!"

"Right," Ed said, looking away and running a hand over his head, "I gotta know if you wanted to clean yourself up."

Nicolas knew very well that he was a mess. "But, how?"

Ed looked back at him and smiled with his strange yellow cat-eyes. "_Alchemy._"

Probably expecting Nicolas to be confused, Ed beckoned him to get up and come over to a circle sketched into the dirt. Scrambling up, Nicolas observed Ed walk back over to the drawing. He had an exaggerated limp, staggering forward more often than not.

Continuing, Ed said, "I'll show you. C'mon and stand in the circle."

Nicolas hesitantly did so. "What is going to—ah!"

Slamming both his hands on the outer line, a blue charge flew up and around the etched symbols, sparking over all of Nicolas' garments. The caked dirt and blood flew off, leaving the fabric as clean as it first came.

With incredulity, Nicolas said, "It's magic!"

"No, it's _alchemy._"

"How can that be, though?" Nicolas talked over Ed. "I've never even heard of a magic of this kind."

"That because it's not magic, it's _alchemy!_" Ed hissed.

"Is this what you used to escape from the jail? It must be!"

Grinding his teeth, Ed muttered, "Well, yeah, it's called alchem—"

"Alchemy, yes, so you've been saying."

"It's nothing like the nonsensical shit you call magic!"

Remaining doubtful, Nicolas conceded, "I suppose."

Ed frowned and looked away. "Alchemy is a science. Alchemy makes sense." In a half mumble not intended for Nicolas' ears, he scoffed, "Magic."

Nicolas opened his mouth to ask more questions when Ed interrupted him.

"We should start walking. Try to find a town."

Burning with questions, Nicolas choked out, "Do you have any idea where we are?"

Marching in a direction at random, Ed muttered incoherently.

Nicolas caught up easily, despite the fact that Ed's determined stomping made him seem three times as fast. They stepped out of the clearing and into the woods, where Ed pulled out his small knife and began marking trees as they went.

"Um, since we are not in any immediate danger," Nicolas began, almost to himself, interrupting the sound of their feet crunching on the forest floor. "Could you tell me a tad more about yourself?"

"I told you my name." Ed stopped and cut two slashes in a tree. They resumed their walk.

"Your full name is Ed?"

"It's Edward."

Edward, Nicolas thought. It was something. "No family name?"

Ed, or Edward, as Nicolas felt was politer, did not answer for what seemed like a long time.

"It really doesn't matter," Edward said. "We should start planning how to find you a damn teacher."

"I think it matters who you are, Edward. If we are going to work together."

"Shit, Nick, you're not gonna start calling me Edward, are you?"

Distinctly uncomfortable, Nicolas snapped, "It's Nicolas. Stop calling me by that name."

Childishly, Ed mocked, "Or what, Nicky?"

Nicolas felt his face heat up. "Try me, Edward."

Unexpectedly, Edward started to grin, but quickly covered it. "You asked for it, ya little bastard."

Dealing with Edward, Nicolas was starting to learn, was like pushing a boulder up a hill. Ed did what he wanted, whenever he wanted. "All right. May I ask another question?"

"Depends," Edward said. "What's my name?"

"I am serious, Edward. Where did you come by your new clothes? Did you summon them with your alchemy?"

"I transmuted them from my old clothes. All alchemy is, really, just manipulating matter."

"Sounds like transfiguration to me."

"Well, it's not. That's your idiotic magic, isn't it?"

"Yes and it's not idiotic! It could very well be the same thing and we wouldn't know until I learn what magic is. All I know is from my mother's grimoires."

"Your mother's got magic, too?"

"She did," Nicolas curtly responded. He did not want to speak about her.

Edward was quiet for a little while, seemingly contemplative. Reaching a conclusion, he stated, "I've got this problem."

"You do?" Nicolas wondered.

"Yeah— you wanted to know more about me, right?" he defended. "Well, I don't remember anything. I try to remember my past, but it's just this blank space. Sometimes I get these flashes of things— objects, feelings, but I can never understand it. There you go. I'm a fucking amnesiac." He laughed miserably. "Anyway."

Nicolas' curiosity popped its head up like a rabbit out of a hole. Not only was Edward a mystery to Nicolas— he was a mystery to himself! How fun! However, he was distracted instantly. Watching Edward slash into another tree with too much force, upper body taut with tension, Nicolas felt himself grow cold. Then Edward's words hit.

"We're being followed."

"What?" Nicolas whispered. His eyes skittered around the dusky trees, searching out movement. His heart pounded along a rhythm in his ears, suddenly far too loud in the very quiet forest.

"Relax, it's just the magic beast thing, you idiot. It's not leaving us."

Nicolas calmed incrementally. But with the calm came an overpowering fury— what kind of man played with his emotions that way? Especially when Nicolas was so on edge! "Never do that again!"

"What?" Ed laughed.

Nicolas wanted to hit him. "You completely diverted our conversation and nearly frightened me to death!"

"Shhh!" Edward absentmindedly pawed Nicolas' face, half crouched and glaring at the surrounding woods. Biting his tongue, Nicolas looked as well.

The thestral chose this moment to edge shyly over the side of a tree from a good distance away. Upon eye contact, the creature quickly slid back into shadow, as if embarrassed.

Out of the corner of his mouth, Ed whispered, "Those things don't feed off our life-force or some other magic nonsense, do they?"

Nicolas thought back to what he had read. "The lore says that they rarely appear, and even then, they only appear to adults in times of war. Not much else is known."

"So they could be harmless bat-horses?"

"Thestrals."

"I think she likes us," Ed said.

Nicolas bit his lip. Thestrals were so rare of a creature that this opportunity was completely unheard of. A brilliant chance to study it! But if the thestral were to be dangerous, it would be better to avoid it. While he was debating, Edward stood up.

Inching toward the hiding creature, Ed coaxed with one hand outstretched, "Here, girl, come here, c'mon. I won't bite, well, usually. Come here…"

Unbelievably, the thestral came out and nestled her snout in Edward's right hand. Ed stroked her, whispering kindly. Nicolas came over as well.

"If we ride her we should be able to cut our time in five," Edward explained.

"Is that a good idea?" Nicolas asked. "Before we had a common goal. But now there's no reason for her to continue to follow us."

"Maybe she's hungry and waiting for us to drop dead. Who knows? All I know is that I can't get anywhere like this." And with that, Ed limped over to the thestral's side and threw himself on her back. Suddenly, he threw Nicolas his knife. "You mark the way on foot. That way we won't get lost."

"I know why!" Nicolas snapped, turning back along the path.

They continued through the dense forest in this manner, Nicolas striding in front, Edward leading the thestral behind. At around midday, they came across a worn dirt path with two heavy wheel ruts. It was unanimously agreed that the best course of action was to find a village and ask around for any rumors on magic. Nicolas was well-versed in this type of action, and it was what led him into the trouble he was in now.

"Which way, Edward?"

"How the hell should I know? Ask the bat-horse."

Both directions of the road looked identical.

"Which way should we go, thestral?" Nicolas asked.

Edward snorted in amusement, but, to their shock, the thestral began striding forward of her own accord.

"Well, what do you know, I think she took you seriously, Nicky."

They ended up traveling to the right. Since there was no longer any need for Nicolas to be on foot, he got on behind Edward, and they set off at a swift trot.

Before long, one lone traveler could be seen in the distance heading toward them. The person was too far away to make out clearly, just a dark smudge against the monotonous dirt road.

"Edward, let me do all the talking, please," Nicolas hissed. "I've done this before." _And you'll probably scare this fellow and offend him in two sentences, _he thought.

Edward glanced backwards and made a face like he understood Nicolas' thoughts, then conceded. "Alright, you probably know what you're doing. Just don't land us in another cage."

Edward coaxed the thestral into increasing her speed, and the person quickly came into focus. It was a tall, spare figure, wrapped in layers of dark blue fabric that was tied around his waist and flowed like a river behind him. A tall blue hat with a wide brim obscured any features.

"That's not right…" Nicolas whispered to Ed.

"It's not?"

"No, people don't dress like that."

Edward hummed thoughtfully, wrapping his hand around his knife's hilt.

"Hello!" Nicolas hailed as soon as they were close enough, throwing out an arm.

The person raised his arm slowly in response, and their thestral walked straight up to his hand and stopped. The person stopped as well. All was still. Nobody moved except the stranger, who slowly ran his hand up the thestral's snout just like Ed had done earlier.

Nicolas broke the awkward lull that had stolen over the group. "Um, excuse me, so sorry to bother you, but could you direct us to the nearest town?"

The stranger finally flicked the brim of his hat upward, revealing his face. Immediately Nicolas realized that he was not a man, but a woman. Her face was worn but still young and lively, and her dark eyes sparkled with some unknown satisfaction. Her mouth widened into a huge smile. "That bastard Dragomir owes me twenty gold denier, because I was right, there you are, he-he!"

Nicolas looked behind him, but there was not anyone else. She must have been speaking to them. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

"You don't have to understand, my boy! Never let logic stop you from running off into the woods on a hunch. It could save someone's life, and also win you a bet, you never know!"

Nicolas spared a glance at Edward, who was staring at the woman levelly. He was heeding Nicolas' wish and letting him speak. Nicolas slid off the thestral and approached the woman, hoping to somehow glean some information from her. He had his doubts.

"Is that what you did, then?" Nicolas asked. "You ran off into the woods on a hunch?"

"I would have, you see, but Dragomir said not in the middle of the school year, said I have duties— so then I found out that the First Year's Tree also had a hunch, would you look at that! So how could I _not _go, Nicolas Flamel? It was all there! And you're all here!"

It was like his blood turned to molasses and his heart stuttered out. Edward dismounted and came to stand by Nicolas' side. "How do you know my name?!" Nicolas demanded. Edward tensed.

"Because it showed up on the Tree! Sometimes the Tree gets confused and gives the names of those who _will _be enrolled in my school, instead of those who _are, _but you must forgive it, they are so easy to get confused."

"_What_ tree, _what_ school, _what_ are you even talking—"

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm not doing this right! I never do it right! Please let me start over!"

Nicolas snapped his mouth shut. Edward shot him an incredulous look, like he couldn't believe Nicolas was putting up with the woman's nonsense.

The woman began again. "I am Madame Corisande, and I lead a school for teaching the magically inclined! You must come and enroll!"

There was a long pause. Nicolas looked helplessly at Edward. Edward spared a confused glance at Nicolas, then instantly resumed glaring at the woman.

"A school," Nicolas said.

"Corisande's school! Though nobody calls it that. I try to tell them it sounds better— but what does Dragomir say? 'Stick with the name the Founder gave,' he says. Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons. Blah. No good."

The name meant nothing to Nicolas. "There is a school that teaches people to control their magic?" The idea was amazing, but Nicolas had been through too much to trust it at face value.

"Yes yes yes!" Madame Corisande said excitedly. "You want proof that what I am saying is true? Many people want proof, even though they already know I tell the truth. Makes them feel better. Here!" A thin piece of wood slid out of her sleeve and into her hand. She flourished it above her head in a few precise movements, reciting, "_Ascendio!_" Suddenly her entire spare form lifted into the sky five feet and stayed there for a moment too long before gently descending to the ground.

Nicolas' mouth dropped open. Finally, finally, at last! A teacher! But in his awe, he had forgotten someone.

Ed tackled Madame Corisande to the ground.

"Ed stop!" Nicolas yelled. Her tall hat had flown over into the mud, and Ed had her pinned face-down. He was frantically trying to snatch the wand from the woman's hand. At Nicolas' yell, Edward threw his head upward, gold eyes blazing, mouth in a snarl, but then he seemed to come back to himself. He released Madame Corisande in one jerky motion and slinked back to the other side of the thestral.

Nicolas desperately tried to control the damage inflicted and picked up her hat, apologizing profusely. "I'm so sorry! He does that sometimes… He's just very jumpy today… Do you need a hand up?... I'm sorry…"

Taking her hat back, the Madame said, "Now that was unexpected. Good thing I didn't bet on_ that _with Dragomir— I already owe him enough, he-he!" She did not seem overly offended. "Introduce your friend, my student Nicolas Flamel!"

Nervously, Nicolas clasped his hands together. "That's Edward— but he likes to be called Ed. He saved my life not too long ago and he's become a good fri— acquaintance."

"Edward, eh? He looks a bit like that old Van Hohenheim! Oh, that brings me back! Hohenheim was such an easy mark…" Breaking out of her musings, Madame Corisande addressed Edward directly, "But I didn't catch your last name! What is it?"

"Doesn't matter," Edward said.

Madame Corisande looked him over once, then simply stated, "You're an interesting one." Turning back to Nicolas, she exclaimed, "Well, let's get going! Have to get you enrolled!"

Then she turned around, and began walking the way she came.

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**It's been ages, but here it is! We're moving on to something else now. We know very little about Nicolas Flamel from the Harry Potter universe, but we do know he attended Beauxbatons. Perhaps a timeskip is in the future. Who knows. Actually, I should know.**

**Please leave a review on your way out!**


	6. Chapter 6

**This was pretty fast, eh? You're welcome. Here's a long missed taste of Ed's POV.**

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The Predecessor

Satirrian

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_SOUTHERN FRANCE 1341 C.E._

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This woman was a fucking whack job. Ed knew it, and Nick should know it. Yet what was happening? Why were they following an escaped psychiatric patient?

Once again Ed tried to clap his hands together. He couldn't.

The tall woman had a meandering walk. One moment she'd be walking straight, the next she'd be crossing over to the other side of the road. He and Nick tried to stay behind her a good distance away, though Nick seemed nervous, like she'd vanish if he looked away for a second. The thestral continued to follow them, sticking by Ed's side. The woman seemed to think conversation was over, but Ed wasn't done with her. Nick had talked his piece; it was Ed's turn now.

"Hey lady!" Ed called.

Madame Corisande spun around on one heel. "Would you like to make a bet, Ed Doesn't-Matter?"

"No, I'd like to get this curse off my hands."

"We've travelled all this way to try to find someone who could get rid of it," Nick explained.

"Oh, I know about that little spell!" Madame Corisande hushed. "But I don't do work for free. There's a war going on, you know? A creature like yourself could be working for the other side! So, I say again, would you like to make a bet, Ed Doesn't-Matter?"

Narrowing his eyes, Ed said, "Do you think you're funny? What the hell do you have in mind?"

"Oh, a simple wager. I have gleaned that there is a nasty goblin congregation in the caves of the Endless Wood. I bet that if you are able to bypass their defenses and gain knowledge of their fighting prowess, I will undo the repelling spell. If you fail, well, the repercussions should be obvious. Simple enough."

"That's a fucking stupid deal— do you think I'm a goddamn idiot? If I wait a year Nick could undo the damn curse on his own for free!"

Nick nodded in agreement.

"Oh, savvy of you, young no-name," Madame Corisande said.

"I ain't going to do any of your shit dirty work unless there's an equivalent payment, witch," Ed continued.

"Equivalence! Now that's an ideal as ancient as the beginning of man. I need to pay you with something more meaningful, something you desperately need, the same as I desperately need." The woman adjusted her tall blue hat, keeping the sun out of her eyes. "Things three I will give thee. A leg, a name, and three-hundred twenty gold denier to waste in more bets, he-he! Actually, I can't do the last one. Dragomir would kill me."

"Wait, what?! A leg?"

"Madame Corisande, you don't mean to say there is a way to return him his lost leg?" Nick echoed.

"Most students call me Master Dungus, Nicolas Flamel. Though they usually call me that inside their barracks at night when I am not around… To my face they call me Master Corisande. No, I cannot return him his lost leg, but I can transfigure a leg that functions nearly the same! A wondrous, deal, no?"

"And a name?" Ed growled, trying to stave off the nearly light-headed feeling he got. _Automail? Here? _

_— __again that image of a wrench flying at him, getting closer, moving too fast to dodge, but not that he wanted to dodge— _

"Oh, that. I noticed your memory trouble and, since you interest me, I will share with you a well-kept artefact of my design. It's a Know-It-All Knob. I named it myself. With just a dab of your blood, I can find a myriad amount of information about any creature, very least of all your true name!"

Ed was seized with something he heretofore had not realized was gone. It was hope. He gave into that light-headed feeling, his knee almost buckling. "You can do that? Magic can do that?" he asked, daring not to believe.

"Magic is the culmination of all our hopes and dreams and all that is possible in the world. In my experience, there is very little it _cannot_ do," Madame Corisande said, and for a second she wasn't insane. For a second.

Finally, Nick spoke, "I don't like this. If you're going to make Edward do you a favor, transfigure his leg and undo the curse first, so he has a better chance of succeeding."

"That's not in the spirit of betting," Madame Corisande pouted.

"It _is _in the spirit of equivalent exchange," Ed responded. "I'll still return for my name. It's important to me."

"That is not how I do things, usually. We should hurry to my school and discuss this with Dragomir. He will provide good input that we can all ignore." Upon her words, Corisande picked up her pace, but the road continued off into the distance, seemingly never-ending. What use would speeding up do?

Nick and Ed fell behind, clearly understanding that Madame Corisande would no longer discuss anything until they arrived at the mysterious Beauxbatons.

"I fear this may be another trap," Nick confessed. "I want to believe so badly, but I got captured before because I was looking for a teacher. And this— this is so similar…"

"The best thing we can do is use her before she uses us," Ed argued. "So let's play it by ear."

"I swear some of your phrases are just bizarre, Edward. But I think I get your meaning."

They trudged on in silence. Madame Corisande eventually passed them both a water pouch for which they were grateful. Neither of them had anything to eat or drink in what seemed like a long time and they were both near dehydration. She explained briefly that she brought no food because she'd had to sneak out from under Dragomir's gaze. Ed thought this Dragomir sounded like her keeper, and was tempted to taunt her about it. Nick elbowed him in the ribs.

Eventually two tall obelisk-like stones could be seen on either side of the road they followed. Round and dark-grey, they were heavily weathered and scratched. The road remained unchanged before and after these stones.

"That's the gate," Madame Corisande explained.

Ed's mind went blank. A ringing noise began far away then moved closer until he felt like his entire head was vibrating with the sound. A white fog edged in around his vision and the feeling bled out of his body from his foot upward… Everything was consumed… Everything will be consumed…

"Wow! How does it work?" Nick asked. "Does it actually transport us to another area or is the school concealed behind the stones, or are the stones complete decoys— just a marker showing where the effects begin?"

"He-he, lots of questions! This gate is my pride and joy! Works in tune with a key, you see! The right key will take you to the right part of the school. I've split it up for various reasons— mainly so Dragomir would find it harder to find me. It hasn't worked so well. But it definitely keeps the students safer from invasions." Madame Corisande then extracted an iron ring from inside her robes. On it were countless thin sheets of metal, rectangular with a hole for the ring to go through, of all kinds of colors. None of them actually resembled a key. "As a student you'll also receive a few keys, though nothing like my master set here," she jiggled the iron ring.

"Can just anyone use them?" Nick asked.

"Anyone can use these here," Madame Corisande again referred to her set, "But the students are all fine-tuned. For safety reasons, blah blah blah," she waved away the question.

"Are you ready, Edward?" Nick asked him.

Ed came back to himself and focused on the dirty face of little Nicky. He berated himself for losing focus. The insane witch could have attacked Nick while he was zoned out.

"Yeah, let's get this over with," he said.

"Ed Doesn't-Matter," Madame Corisande called, "get on your thestral, we're going through! Nicolas Flamel, grab my hand. With my other I shall direct this young lady," she was talking about the thestral, "through the gate."

"Ha-ha, Cori," Ed snarked at Madame Corisande, hopping onto the thestral anyway, "Keep on calling me Ed Doesn't-Matter. It's hilarious."

"Oh, we're on a nickname basis already!" Madame Corisande replied, oblivious. "How delightful!"

Ed smiled vindictively, and they walked forward, between the two stones.

Immediately, it felt like Ed was getting ground between two cliffs, and everything he was got squished into a mash. He couldn't breathe, he could barely think, the only thought running through his head being, _Yes, great job, Edward, you walked straight into the trap. You're the best protector in the world... _

Then the horrible sensation let up, and they emerged high in the mountains, the cold air hitting them like a slap in the face. They were in the middle of what looked like a tiny bustling village perched on the side of a mountain. An avenue stretched forth peckered with wagons and bizarre-looking livestock, where people in vibrant colors hustled back and forth from stands and sturdy stone buildings. Rising above the village in the distance was a pole on which flapped a shimmering piece of gold fabric. Other than that, the school could have been any of the numerous humble looking stone buildings scattered about.

There was something very functional about the place, Ed thought. For a magic school, he expected extravagance to the highest degree, but Ed found he felt more comfortable in this environment.

"Welcome to Mountainside," Madame Corisande said. "Our most secure location. I wanted to show you Forestdale, the students love it there— I personally prefer Lakeheart, but most people cannot breathe underwater, so no one goes there— but this is for the best. Yes. Come along."

She took them down along the avenue, but soon got sidetracked by a woman carrying two heavy crates of something screaming and moved to go chat. Ed looked down at Nick from on top of the thestral. Nick shrugged. Ed waggled his eyebrows. Nick shook his head, eyes wide. Ed began smirking. Motioning his hands in the negative, Ed ignored him and pulled him up behind him. Then he spurred the thestral toward the distant shimmering flag.

"Perfect opportunity to scout out the area," Ed said.

"Why couldn't we just wait?" Nick moaned. "It's not hard. Really, it isn't."

"Waiting is what they expect us to do!"

Nick sighed.

Nobody looked twice at the galloping thestral. Ed supposed creatures like that were par for the course for towns like these. Soon the avenue ended in a building which was easily the most well-constructed, with short stone stairs leading up to a huge doorway between two stone pillars. The flagpole was right before the building, and a coat of arms adorned the giant door. Two golden wands crossed over each other, each shooting one star.

"You made it!" someone yelled from behind them. Ed jumped and flew around.

It was just the insane witch. Ed wondered if she'd popped out of the ground like a mole.

"This is the school building. Dragomir is expecting us. Leave the lady outside," Madame Corisande instructed. Ed and Nick dismounted and followed her up the steps, leaving the thestral to paw the ground in front of the building. Before they could open the tinier door set inside the larger one (Ed found the entire thing ridiculous— why make a door that huge and not even use it?), it burst open like a gunshot.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!" the man screeched, grabbing Corisande by the shoulders and shaking her back and forth. He looked to be in his mid- to late twenties, with bright green hair, a chiseled jawline, and a broken nose. In contrast with Corisande's superfluous dark blue robes, he wore functional leather armor and had a few bags tied to his waist. "YOU WERE GONE FOR TWO DAYS!"

"Hey… It is all right… I have accomplished my goal!" Madame Corisande gestured weakly to Nick and Ed. Ed smirked. Nick waved awkwardly. "Pay up!"

The man could only have been Dragomir. He physically dragged Madame Corisande into the building. With a glance at each other, Ed and Nick followed.

Dragomir was driving Madame Corisande down a wide and open entry hall. A giant mural of a battle scene covered the far wall, only broken by three different doorways. At least Ed assumed it must be a mural, and not reality, since the figures in the mural seemed to be moving of their own accord. Another glance at Nick affirmed that this type of painting was especially well-done, but not a weird occurrence. Nick had to drag him away before Dragomir left their sight. Ed wished he could sit in front of the mural and study it. _I bet Al would have really liked— _

Ed quickly jarred his thoughts.

They caught up to the Madame and Dragomir in a room branching off one of the corridors. Three of the walls were covered entirely in bookcases. On the fourth wall, however, there was a gigantic hole with a drop down a cliff-face. Across the hole were a few metal bars where birds of all sizes and breeds rested, pieces of parchment tied around their breasts. A desk was in the center of the room completely covered in more paper, books, and ink.

Dragomir was in the middle of berating Madame Corisande. "—_Augh!_ You've got such a backload of work you're going to be working until you're dead and _you're still going to keep working! _That's how screwed you are! Not only is every single student behind in their studies, but half the upperclassmen decided to just fuck it and they've been teaching the servant-elves how to play the lute. That's just in two days! But who even gives a shit about that because the goblins have advanced as far as the Aude! The _Aude_, Master. They've grown bold by your disappearance— oh, and you've been getting mail from Ruedetan Slytherin about your studies on locator charms. He wants to meet or some shit? He's mailed like ten times—!"

"Dragomir, calm down! We have a new student to take care of before that, and a wager to resolve," Madame Corisande pleaded.

Dragomir angrily flicked his eyes over to Nick and Ed. "Master, I get that students have been tight recently with the war, but you let the world go to hell for two children?"

To himself, Ed whispered, "I'm _not_ a kid, you asshole…"

Huffing, Dragomir closed his eyes and a ran a hand over his face, wincing at his broken nose. "Actually!" he sighed, "You wouldn't be Master Corisande if you didn't."

"Exactly!" she agreed. Pointing out Nick, she said, "That will be our new first year, Nicolas Flamel."

"The boy whose name is already on the Tree?"

"Indeed. The other is more interesting. I've proposed a bet."

"Oh Great Merlin… what is it?" Dragomir asked.

"Ed needs our service removing a curse. I said I would do it if he succeeded in performing a service for me, reconnaissance on the Endless Wood congregation. He said it was not equivalent. So I said if I did him two other services, it would balance out. Yet he thinks he should receive the services _before_ performing the task which is just ridiculous—"

Dragomir hardened his mouth into a thin line. "How do you keep getting into these situations?" he grumbled. "You have no time to lose. Do one service for him beforehand, then if he returns with important information, conclude the deal. I think that should be fair."

Madame Corisande turned to Nick and Ed and raised her eyebrows. "Well, do we have a bet?"

Before Nick could say anything, Ed demanded, "Do I get to choose which one you do first?"

"I should think so," Madame Corisande responded.

"Then we've got a deal." They shook hands. Madame Corisande looked too pleased. Ed was grim.

"Well, Ed, which would you like first?"

"Make me a leg," he said. "And I'm not leaving until I see Nicky settled in."

Nick was looking at him like he'd just signed his life away. Who knew? Maybe Ed had.

"You shall receive it, I assure you, right before we send you off. If there is any other necessary equipment, it will be yours. Right, Dragomir?"

"Master, we should really be getting back to work, have Pulcherie use her keys to set him up. You've got a class to teach in twenty minutes and I'm doubling it to make up for the lost time…"

"Ah. I see. Go back to the entry hall. Someone will find you. I'll see you soon, Ed Doesn't-Matter! Welcome to my school, Nicolas Flamel."

"Thank you, Madame, ah, I mean, Master Corisande…" Nick said.

"Fuck you, Cori…" Ed said.

They left through the door to the sound of Dragomir yelling at the Madame again. Ed remembered the way back, so Nick followed him until they were once again in front of the huge intricate mural. Ed took the opportunity to actually study it. One side of the fight was human, the other was made up of creatures of all shapes and sizes, clashing and snarling. Which side did Ed belong on, he wondered.

Ed was barely aware of Nick standing by his side until he spoke, "You should not have taken that bet, Edward."

"I'm sturdy. I'll live. Don't worry about me. This place looks legit. You need to learn up on everything magic, okay? And have a good life."

"You sound like you're saying goodbye."

"Maybe I am."

"You can't. I don't want you to."

Ed was silent. Something inside of him wanted to cry.

"That's stupid. I'm a violent idiot. You'll make better friends here."

Nick was looking at him. Ed steadfastly looked at the mural. "Maybe so. But who else will be so completely obtuse about using my actual name?"

Ed snorted. "Nick is better. It's shorter."

"Since when is being short a good thing?"

"_Are you calling me short?!" _Ed hissed.

Nick quickly backtracked. "I mean, you have to return. You can, um, come back and teach me that transfiguration stuff you do."

"You mean alchemy? Why would you want to learn that?"

"It's interesting."

Ed barked a laugh. "It is, isn't it?"

At that moment someone ran into the room. It was a girl a few years older than Ed, maybe nineteen years old. She was thin and blonde and looked very anxious and out of breath, wearing a black robe. "You're them?!" she panted.

"We're us?" Ed said unhelpfully.

"Are you Pulcherie?" Nick asked.

"Yes, good. Okay, we're on schedule. Nicolas Flamel, come with me. First years' barracks are in Forestdale. That's where the First Years' Tree is located. And, oh dear, I've got to set you up with keys, and a wand, and books, and a schedule, and introduce you, and oh dear…"

"I'm coming along," Ed said.

"You?" Pulcherie said distractedly. "I guess you can. I don't see why not. Who are you?"

"I'm Ed."

Pulcherie was already leaving through the front door, completely ignoring him. "Let's go!" she called.

They followed.

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**Thank you to those who have reviewed! It's really inspired me to keep writing. Originally I was going to have the names "Mountainside" and "Forestdale" be in French, but I figure since they are all technically speaking French it wouldn't make a difference. It's really just: Which sounds better?  
**

**Now I'm really tired. I wrote this in a day. Ugh. Sorry for any typos. **

**Please review! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Last time: Nicolas Flamel got accepted to Beauxbatons! Now he's heading to Forestdale, where the first years live. Ed is tagging along while he waits for Madame Corisande to make him an artificial leg. Once he gets it, he's off to spy on an enemy goblin congregation, but until then...**

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The Predecessor

Satirrian

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_BEAUXBATONS, SOUTHERN FRANCE 1341 C.E._

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Ed would die before he admitted that the pace Pulcherie set leading them back to the gate was too fast for him, but the pace was certainly fast. In his defense, he only had one leg. Measuring up Nick, Ed saw him run through a bunch of emotions, mainly excited and nauseated. Nick was finally going to learn about magic, and the kid deserved to be happy. The thestral saw them emerge from the official building and began following them again. Ed considered giving her a name.

They hustled through the bustling village, and the people made way for Pulcherie, obviously recognizing her. It made Ed think: he wanted to know the exact hierarchy of this magic school, so he knew who to piss off, and who to _really_ piss off. Pulcherie was obviously high up on the latter, but she could also be a student.

"Okay, here it is," Pulcherie announced unnecessarily. The two obelisks of the Mountainside gate looked even more worn than the other one Ed had seen. Wind, he theorized. Pulcherie then grasped Nick's hand, but hesitated when she went for Ed's, instead grabbing his forearm. Hell if Ed knew why. Girls were weird. Ed grabbed hold of the thestral just in case the key and gate worked through physical link, which he was sure it did.

They stepped through, and Ed braced himself.

First thing that hit him was the sun trickling through the leaves. This forest was thicker and more vibrant than the one Ed and Nick had been in earlier. Looking back, the gate was actually artfully carved with patterns, and vines ran up and down their length. Pulcherie set off again, but they didn't have to walk far. At first, the only thing they saw for miles around were trees and foliage. Then they stepped through an invisible film, like a bubble that didn't pop, and suddenly they were in a cheerful settlement. Wooden houses stretched down a worn dirt road, with smaller paths diverging off the main one. Ed realized they had been walking on one of these smaller dirt paths.

There were people dressed brightly in outrageous colors, hats with feathers, shoes with bells, and no one could have been older than twenty. There was no distinct uniform, or type of bag that signified that they were all students of the same school, but they were clean-cut and busy-looking. Ed and Nick definitely stood out with their drab browns and dirty hair.

"Down that way," Pulcherie pointed right, "Is the First Years' Tree." Pointing the other way, she continued, "That's where you'll find the mess. Most first years stay in Forestdale, where we are now, but near the end of your fifth your classes will take place in all locations, even Lakeheart." Pulcherie slid out a wand and did a few quick motions. "We're just in time for lunch! You go there, eat something, I'll be back in an hour. I have to commission your keys, and on such short notice, oh dear…" Pulcherie dashed off toward the Forestdale gate, back the way they'd come.

Left alone, Ed and Nick looked at each other hopelessly.

"I guess we should begin walking," Nick said.

"Finally, food!" Ed said, striding to the left. The thestral followed them like usual.

The students, clumping together like magnets, stared at them like they were an invading force. A tight-knit group, Ed surmised. He glared at group of older-looking boys in bright red. They quickly ducked their heads. A few students slipped inside the wooden structures as they passed. It looked like no one would approach them.

Ed wondered if he was scaring away all of Nick's potential friends until one girl burst out of a building on their right. She hopped directly in front of Nick, stopping him in his tracks. She wore a bright lavender cloak and darker violet leggings under a tunic. She had a knapsack slung over her shoulder that had teeth that were absently munching on something. She looked around Ed's age, with dark hair and an olive-toned oval face.

"You're not from around here," she stated. "First the Master leaves, then two strangers wander in from the outside. Who are you? What is your purpose?"

Holding out his hands spastically, Nick spluttered out something vaguely resembling words. Ed cocked his head to the side, confused.

Sliding her wand out of her knapsack, the girl grew hostile. "If you cannot answer me—" she threatened.

"I'm Cori's new errand boy," Ed snapped before she cast some weird spell on Nicky.

The girl turned to face Ed, suspicious. "Cori?"

"Master Corisande," Nick choked out.

"For a servant you address her rather informally," the girl commented.

"We have an interesting relationship," Ed said.

A dark blush made its way over the girl's face. Ed wondered what he had said.

"And you?" she turned on Nick.

"He's Nicky Flamel," Ed answered.

"It's Nicolas," Nick said.

Narrowing her eyes, the girl said, "I've heard that name before. Are you to be a student here?"

Nick nodded weakly.

"In that case," a small smile wormed its way across her face, "Welcome to Beauxbatons. We're not too used to new people, what with the war. I'm Perenelle Lavoie, Third Year. Stick with me, it will calm the others down. Are you headed to the mess?"

Nick nodded again, and she led them to a wider wooden building with seven chimneys, all with smoke billowing out. They entered into a warm room that reminded Ed of a tavern, but with longer tables and without any drunks littered around.

"Ask the servant-elf at the bar for a meal," Perenelle said, taking a seat near a window.

Ed was starving, he knew, but there was something different about it. He felt like his hunger was muted, less demanding. He was probably just imagining things. Nick ran over to the bar and got a full bowl of stew. Ed followed right after. They came back and sat next to Perenelle. In the meantime, she had extracted a novel and various pieces of parchment from her knapsack and was busy skimming through them.

Nick seemed to have gathered his nerves enough to actually ask her about them. Nick had never been shy before, and Ed wondered why he suddenly started now.

"Herbology studies," she said offhandedly, "It's my worst class, so I have to study more often."

Nick looked awestruck. "How are classes structured here?"

Ed made a face. He never liked school environments. But he was, against his own will, interested in magic. He hated that damn nonsense. He needed to do research. Lots of research. His brain urged him to start now.

"How do you use magic?" Ed interrupted Nick and Perenelle's conversation. Perenelle was in the middle of explaining a study schedule.

"You mean you don't know?" she asked.

"Why would I ask something I already knew?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What are you?" She quickly caught herself and elaborated, "I mean to say, you can't be a wizard, and any task Master gives would be too difficult for any muggle to achieve."

"Assuming a muggle is a normal person, I think you're underestimating people."

"And_ I _think you're underestimating Master's tasks."

Ed and Perenelle glared at each other. Finally, Ed broke eye contact and leaned back. "If I answer, then you answer."

"Deal."

Nick quickly looked from Ed to Perenelle, worried about the exchange.

"I'm an alchemist," Ed said.

"Never heard of it," Perenelle responded, eyes sharp like knives.

"_You_ wouldn't."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" she snapped, slamming her fist on the table.

Ed was about to say: "Just what I said," when Nicky intervened.

"It's a type of wizard, from what I can tell."

"I am _not_ a wizard," Ed hissed. "Do not associate alchemy with the stick waving you call _magic_!"

"Well the results are _similar _at least!" Nick sighed, exasperated.

Ed shoveled stew into his mouth.

Jutting out her chin, Perenelle said, "I'd like to see an exhibition of this practice."

"And I'd like to have two legs, but we can't all get what we want," Ed responded bitterly.

Perenelle visibly flinched and Ed felt a little bad. He ignored his guilt by eating more.

"I'm sorry, that was—" she paused, started again. "You use magic by speaking an incantation and moving your wand through the proper movements. The more familiar with the spell, the more likely you can perform it silently, with simplified motions."

It was a neat explanation, Ed thought. Very tidy. "It's as simple as that?"

"Well, some people take to it more easily than others."

Ed frowned. Perenelle frowned. Nick pretended he was very busy with his meal.

The wooden door of the mess creaked open and the harried Pulcherie jogged in. "Good! You're here!" Her face was red from exertion. She leaned her weight on her thighs and caught her breath for a moment. "I've got your keys, Flamel. The other one, come with me, the Master is ready for you."

Nick's eyes widened. "You're leaving already?"

"Good, the quicker the better," Ed said.

Perenelle's face turned bright red again. Honestly, Ed had no idea what was going through her head. Ed began to stand up.

"Wait, Alchemist!" Perenelle called. "I never got your name."

Ed looked at her. He supposed that she was all right enough, for a witch. "I'm Ed."

"Perenelle." She held out her hand. Ed grasped it with his right, the red mark of the dragon eating its own tail standing out sharply. She took note of it. "I'll see you around the grounds?"

"I really doubt it."

"You _are_ coming back, Edward," Nick stated solemnly. "You hear me?"

Smiling, Ed waved his hand, "Yeah, yeah. We'll meet again and all that crap."

Nick grabbed his shoulder. "I mean it, Edward. If you don't come back, I may just have to go and find you."

Ed laughed. "You'll probably just get captured by the same people that took me down. We might even be cellmates again!"

"Ye of little faith!"

Ed waved again to Nick, took in Perenelle's serious face, then followed Pulcherie out the door. It was about time that Ed was on his way. If he stayed any longer he might actually get _attached_ to these people.

He was going to miss Nick.

They were outside and briskly walking down the dirt forest path. "So you're just abandoning Nick back there?" Ed asked Pulcherie.

"Listen, a new first year is at the very bottom of my priorities right now," she huffed. "I've got a very tight schedule, and everything is messed up after Master's absence, and now _you_."

"You know I have a name?"

"I'm not bothering to learn it. You'll be dead within the week."

Ed's heart froze in his chest. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Pulcherie did that strange motion with her wand, and gasped. "Oh dear, we're late! We have to move swiftly, get on your beast, please."

"The thestral?"

"Hurry!"

Ed mockingly repeated the word "hurry" to himself while he swung himself onto the thestral's back. Pulcherie took off in a sprint toward the gate. Ed wondered why everything had to be so far apart. They ran between the stones without a pause and turned up in a wide green field. A single wooden house was the only thing in sight for miles, besides the two obelisks of the gate. Something about the landscape was familiar to him, and calmed him down.

"Oi, Pulcherie, what do I—"

"Got to go! Goodbye!" Pulcherie called, and she ran back through the gate.

Ed was alone with the thestral in the vast, endless plain. He took in the clear sky and sighed. "Head toward the house," he told the thestral. Again he thought of giving her a name.

"Do you want a name?" he asked.

Of course, the thestral said nothing. They came to the doorway and Ed dismounted, pausing a moment to pet the thestral's snout. "I don't know why you're following me. I'll probably just end up hurting you."

The thestral snuffled into his hand. Ed smirked and knocked on the door. Unfortunately, the door was so poorly held up that the entire piece of wood collapsed into the house.

"Hello?" Ed called into the open doorway.

"Ed Doesn't-Matter!" The Madame appeared, towering over him, face smudged with some unidentifiable green substance. "Welcome to my home!"

Her "home" was little more than a box of wood poorly fit together. Inside, tables spanned the entire perimeter, covered in pots and glasses, metal contraptions, tools and books. Ed was certain he had seen a large sock with eyes next to a hat made out of loops of bronze. "It's… nice," he said.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "Now remove your trousers."

"How about no."

"Oh, it's nothing untoward! I just have to measure your leg!"

In truth, Ed had realized that was her purpose, yet still refused to blindly follow along. He narrowed his eyes, and asked a question, "How is the leg going to respond to my command?"

Madame Corisande began striding around her small house and throwing together random scraps of metal she saw. "It's part of the spell I devised!"

"You make a lot of spells," Ed commented. "From what I understand that's unusual."

Examining a silver metal bird, the Madame said offhandedly, "Yes, yes, I suppose. Most wizards and witches rarely go beyond what they're taught in school." She threw the bird on the pile.

Crossing his arms, thousands of questions ran through his head. But knowing this insane woman, she'd only have patience for one. Deciding on the most pressing issue, Ed said, "You said there's a war going on. What exactly are the sides?"

Madame Corisande bent down to grab at something underneath one of her tables. "King Philip VI and Gringott the Greedy, at least officially."

"And unofficially?"

She stood up with a sword and checked the edge. "Beauxbatons, me, the High Priests, and Krushtuk the Carnage's vast armies. I wouldn't normally get involved, but Philip's son is a mighty good gambler…"

Ed was filled with a rage so powerful that his vision partially blanked out. "You're joining a war because you lost some money _gambling?!_"

He couldn't believe he left Nick at this school.

_"Are you insane!?"_ he yelled.

Madame Corisande finally looked at him, and it was a serious look. "Do you understand where you come in now?"

"No, I don't! At! All!"

"I thought you'd have figured it out. The only thing keeping this school alive, and hundreds of children off the streets to be beaten to death by muggles who don't understand their power, is my cooperation in the war effort. By helping me, Edward, you're keeping the students away from jobs that would otherwise place them in danger. You're keeping Nicolas away from danger."

At least some of what she was saying felt true to Ed. But the longer he spoke to her, the more he knew that he was getting more and more entrapped in the military of this strange world.

"I'll stick to my word," he growled. "But you better think twice before I'll _ever_ help you again."

"That's fine," the Madame said. "There's always someone ready to replace you. Our dealings don't have to last any longer than you wish. Ah-hah!" It looked like she had found something especially important. It was a gold metal ball that fit in her palm. She added it to the growing pile. She snapped her fingers, and a string magically flew over to Ed. "Let that measure your good leg," she flicked her wrist and a wooden chair came into existence, "You should sit down."

Ed went to sit down when he realized that he was no longer wearing trousers. He felt like the entire world paused awkwardly as his mind froze. He fell into the chair unceremoniously. At least he had boxers on, he conceded. The make-shift prosthetic he had made so he could walk around, little more than a peg leg, really, vanished in the same manner as his trousers.

"Stop deconstructing my things!" Ed barked.

"They're in the way, you see!" the Madame chirped.

The string flew around him like an excited bird and measured out the length of his calf, his thigh, his foot, the width of his calf, his thigh and his foot, then the height of his calf, his thigh, and his foot, and finally curled up on the floor, tired.

Madame Corisande circled the piled metals and even a few jewels critically. "It has to be beautiful and perfectly imperfect," she hummed.

"I just need it functional," Ed said.

_"Glyptikí!"_ she casted without warning. The assembled items changed into a liquid phase and swirled together, levitating in the air, making some bizarre light bronze metal amalgam. Using her wand to swirl the materials around, she whistled and the string jerked awake. _"Parómoios!" _she called. The string started moving in tight circles, and as the string sped up, it seemed that the string grew longer, until the after-image of a copy of Ed's leg appeared midair. Ed found himself unwillingly impressed.

Humming again, Madame Corisande separated the metals into a bronze tone and a silver tone. _"Schimatismós!" _she yelled, and violently swooped her wand upward. The metal formed inside of the shell created by the living string. Then the Madame tweaked her wand this way and that, moving around the material so it looked pleasing to her. But as far as Ed saw, it looked like the Madame was making a copy of his_ right_ leg, when he needed a _left_.

"You know I need a left leg, right…?"

"Oh calm yourself, Ed Doesn't-Matter…" Pleased with the sculpture she made, a mostly silver base, with bronze on the kneecap and lines of gold running down the sides of the shin and covering the base of the foot, she casted, _"Kathréftis!"_

The string dropped to the ground, exhausted. The metal copy of his leg seemingly flipped like it was caught in a mirror, becoming a left leg. Magic made everything too easy, Ed thought bitterly. The Madame appraised it critically. "Now it is time for the most important step."

"Actually making it work?" Ed guessed.

Madame Corisande threw him a sly look. _"Sárka Dimiourgísei!"_ she chanted, touching the tip of her wand to the metal sculpture. A long moment passed. Her brow furrowed, and she frowned determinately. Little by little, Ed could just barely perceive the tiniest of symbols crawling across the metal surface, swirling down to the tips of the artificial toes. She froze in that position, fighting her own magical battle.

Eventually, she broke the silence of the room with a rapid fire list of spells. _"Dýnami! Elafrós! Diarkís! Aspída Xórki! Midén Doreán!"_

None of these spells physically changed the metal replica of his leg. He could only assume they did something on the infrastructure, like Winry would say—

Ed forgot his train of thought. The Madame sighed, and brought her wand down, letting the leg remain levitating in the air. "Now the hard part begins," she said. She pointed her wand at Ed, _"Somno Obvoluto!"_ she whispered.

And suddenly he wasn't aware of anything at all.

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**Oh god, I am using this story to procrastinate on all my other work... I am so screwed... Please review to prove to me that procrastination is a good thing. **

**Next chapter we'll finally get some action, I think! Stay tuned!**

**Also, a contest. What do you guys think the thestrals name should be?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Last time: The Madame created a metal limb for Ed's missing leg, but, before she could attach it, she cast a mysterious spell on him, forcing him unconscious... **

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_The Predecessor_

Satirrian

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_THE ENDLESS WOOD, 1341 C.E._

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Ed was running through the trees and bouncing over rocks. The wind blew his hair back, and his muscles stretched in a way he'd been unable to do for a long time. It was glorious, but Ed wasn't simply enjoying the afternoon air. He had a mission. According to his map, the caves of the Endless Wood were just east of the location of the gate where he had been let out.

He'd been jogging for about ten minutes, and he was constantly surprised at the versatility of his new metal leg. The thing should've weighed a ton, but Ed barely felt it! Normally, he would have thought that this lightness meant it was weak, but he had tested it by kicking a tree trunk and the huge dent in the bark had spoken for itself. The Madame did good work, he thought reluctantly. He felt like he was betraying someone he loved just by thinking it.

He checked the position of the setting sun. He put his back to it and ran on. When Madame Corisande had made him pass out, he'd been pissed. Her explanation, that the attachment was extremely painful, was stupid and annoying. Ed would be glad to be rid of her when he was done with this.

And _this_, he thought, was one of the stupidest things he'd ever done. Now that he was alone, (Ed had managed to convince the thestral to stay with the Madame, against the Madame's wishes), he allowed himself to consider how stupid he was acting. He was spying on a group of creatures of unknown ability, numbers, and intelligence. Ed didn't know why these caves, as far removed as they were, were of some tactical advantage. He didn't know which side the war was leaning to, or the reasons the war had begun. He was walking into a catastrophe! And to top it all off, Ed still couldn't clap his hands together!

Ed's foot came down on a stick and the crack resounded throughout the forest. He paid it no heed. Up ahead the forest began angling upward, climbing the side of the mountain. Ed was supposed to climb the mountain, and the caves would be on the other side. Ed was sure that, had he been human, he would have been exhausted by then. But since he wasn't, whatever the hell kind of creature he was, his pace remained rather constant.

He tried to focus on the distant pleasure of having full movement once again, and soon enough he began sliding down the rocky summit of the tiny mountain. He saw a cliff-face right below him which signified the location of the caves. He came to a halt.

He should actually come up with a plan. He thought for a moment, and the best idea he could think of involved running away and finding another wizard to remove the curse on his hands. But he couldn't do that. Madame Corisande offered more than curse-breaking— she offered a way for him to regain some of his identity.

So maybe a "good" plan didn't really exist. There were only slightly less bad plans. The Madame had given him a spyglass for him to use, if he wanted, and he pulled it out of his bag. All he had to do was spy, right? So if he got far enough away, he could just watch who came in and out, and that would be that.

Grimacing, Ed picked his way over to the right. He'd make his way down the mountain and observe from the forest.

He never got that far.

As his flesh foot came down on a protruding rock, three spikes of serrated metal shot up from nowhere and pierced his calf all the way through. Grunting in pain, Ed automatically bent down to free his leg, and that was when a metal spear stabbed him through the shoulder from behind.

"What the fuck!" Ed screamed.

Unintelligible nonsense came from a voice behind him.

Ed ripped his leg free with a wet popping sound, red lightning shooting up and down his calf. The unintelligible nonsense increased in volume, and Ed assumed the thing was calling for backup.

"Oh, no you don't," he growled, and firmly grasped the spear jutting from his shoulder. He forcefully spun around, and felt the moment that the enemy's grip on the spear slackened. A small man-ish creature stood before him, covered head-to-toe in armor plating. A helmet concealed any of the creature's features. The thing's hands were empty, and his posture stunned.

"You've got a good alarm system," Ed said, snapping off the tip of the spear with one hand. He smiled, "I guess this was going to end in blood one way or another."

The goblin regathered itself and pulled a short sword from his belt. Ed leaned forward, opening himself to the goblin's attack. The creature swung upwards and Ed kicked his metal leg into the goblin's abdomen with so much force that the goblin flung back two feet.

More serrated metal spikes flashed out of the rocky surface of the mountain, jabbing Ed's flesh leg and bouncing off his metal one. He was pinned. "Where did these things keep coming from?" he growled.

A distant twang alerted him to the forest below. His eyes widened. A barrage of over twenty arrows hailed down on his spot. He turned his back to it in an attempt to protect his head, shredding the muscles of his leg in the process. An arrow pierced his shoulder, next to the spear wound, another ripping into his lower back. A third and fourth entered his upper arm, a fifth scraping his rib cage. The rest settled around him in the field of serrated metal.

Bleary with pain, Ed searched for the enemy goblin. He was gone. It made sense. They wouldn't open fire on a friendly…

Ed forced himself to stay conscious. He had to get away. But the entire side of the mountain was a field of spikes and enemy fire. He suddenly understood why Pulcherie considered him a dead man walking. Ed himself didn't know why he was still alive. Maybe if he stayed very still they would think he was dead and leave him alone?

It seemed to work. At least, a second barrage of arrows never came. Standing awkwardly with his leg pinned to the ground and torso sporting various weaponry, Ed watched the enemy goblin reappear through a dark entrance Ed hadn't seen. He berated himself for missing it.

The goblin, in the same armor as the one before, stood a safe distance from Ed and crossed his arms. "Why here?" it grunted.

"I went for a walk," Ed paused to cough up some blood. "Must've gotten lost."

The goblin was silent for a moment. "Who work?"

"Who work? Who do I work for? No one. I work for myself."

The goblin growled something in its unintelligible language. "Who work?" he grunted again, louder.

"No one!" Ed repeated.

The goblin took out his short sword and slit Ed's throat.

The sensation was strange, like swallowing glass and drowning at the same time, but it soon ended as the red lightning flashed, healing his throat like nothing had ever happened. Ed was stunned— his mind couldn't comprehend what had happened. _He was alive? _

The goblin stumbled back in horror, tripping over his feet. He whispered something in his own language in a soft tone, retreating back to the hidden entrance.

Ed took the brief lapse to try to lug his pain-leaden limbs out of their trapped predicament. He started with his leg, but the problem remained, even if he got his leg out, where could he go? There were spikes everywhere.

A distant shuffling alerted him to the presence of another goblin. Ed looked up. This one was bare of any armor and clad in finely embroidered gold cloth. A pair of spectacles sat on the bridge of his long pointy nose. Ed thought he looked familiar, but he wasn't sure.

"You gonna try to kill me, too?" Ed asked.

"I doubt any attempt would make a difference, Defiant One."

An armored goblin appeared in the cave entrance and said something in their language. The one before Ed snapped something back and the other retreated.

"The others fear for my safety," the goblin said. "But I know different."

"Have we met before?" Ed asked, taken by an incredible sense of deja vu.

"No. My brother, Grukhood, you have met."

There was only one instance where Ed had met a goblin. At least, one that he remembered. "The slave cart," Ed snarled. "He killed the jailer."

The goblin nodded. "I am Gringott. By my knowledge, I do not think you are here to destroy us."

"I'm not," Ed agreed. The name Gringott was familiar— it came rushing back. Gringott was supposedly the leader of the goblin forces. Ed had stumbled upon something very important. Unless Madame Corisande already knew…

"I will release you if you agree to speak of terms."

Now was not the time to speculate. Ed should be jumping for joy. Speaking meant going inside the cave, which would give Ed enough information to please the Madame. "Sure, yes, of course."

Gringott smiled slowly, flashing his predatory teeth. "But speaking this whore's language, _French_, is disrespectful to my people. We will speak the language of gold."

"Um, _what?"_

"The sooner you learn _Gobbledegook_, the sooner you may be released."

Ed gaped. "What the hell, I'm not learning another fucking language—"

"Gjipp kha ji hyisst," Gringott said.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

"Kayuk tzdio cl," the goblin said snidely.

"Fuck this!" Ed once again tried to extricate himself from the elaborate trap of metal. He slipped his leg out of the three spikes impaling it, only for another spike to appear from the ground and spear him clear through the achilles tendon. He stopped.

"Kayuk tzdio cl," Gringott repeated.

Ed glared at the well-dressed goblin. He could swear Gringott was enjoying this. Learning another language could take months, even years. Ed didn't have the patience for it. But if he pretended to accept the terms, he would retain regular contact with the goblins stationed in these caves while he worked on a way to escape their trap. "Teach me the curses first," Ed said.

Gringott smiled again and said, "Tahasht."

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"TAHASHT!" Ed yelled in frustration. It had taken him a week and four broken ribs to fling himself over the cliff-face that made up the top of one of the caves, away from the ever-replenishing field of death spikes. Even in mid-air, he felt his flayed skin regrow and mend, until he realized that his fall _wasn't ending, _even as he plummeted into the ground like it didn't exist. His drop eventually ended, and he re-broke his four ribs, plus four others, both his arms, and his nose. When he came to, he was at the bottom of a pit ringed by wall sconces lit by blue fire. There were no doors that he could see or feel. Above him was a brown film, which Ed assumed was the ground glamour.

"Shit," Ed cursed again, this time in French. Escaping this stupid pit would be easy with alchemy, but who knew what other traps lied outside? This mission was a complete disaster. The goblins, despite doing nothing to un-impale him, had treated him decently, even respectfully. They'd given him food, water, and force-fed him their language until his mind spun. Ed had eventually learned that the goblins' disdain for wizards extended to their language, so much so that, if they wanted to converse with someone they considered worth respecting, they had to do it in Gobbledegook. It was a thorough pain in the ass.

He began scratching the transmutation circle on the ground. He looked like a mess. The brown coat he wore was in shreds, barely more than rags. His trousers were reduced to shorts, his shirt peppered with gaping holes and stained brown by old blood. He had lost his bag containing his spyglass and provisions long ago. A knocking sound caused him to jerk his head up. He got into a ready position.

"How are you?" Gringott said in Gobbledegook. His voice came from behind one side of Ed's pit.

"Eat shit," Ed responded in the same language. His week-long drilling in the goblins tongue had given him a passable understanding of conversational Gobbledegook.

"You are doing well," Gringott said. Ed ignored him and finished off his circle. He had gotten an idea. He slammed his hands down, blue sparks flashed, and the wall of the pit from the direction of Gringott's voice turned into a door. It was nothing fancy, at least for Ed. Perfectly proportioned, with an ornate handle. Ed kicked it in. As he had deduced, there was a hallway, most likely part of the caves Ed had come to investigate. Gringott stood there with an expression on his face that suggested someone had thrown a wrench into his plan.

"I'm not going to play along with you anymore," Ed growled, going back to his native tongue. "I've been a slave to a jackass before— I'm _not _going to do that again. I thought goblins would be different than wizards, but it looks like I was wrong!" Checking to see that his words had had a suitable effect— Gringott physically flinched— Ed moved to sprint down the corridor.

He had gotten to a bend when Gringott yelled after him. "Go any further and you will be assaulted by my guard!"

"Let them come!" Ed turned his back to the goblin. He hesitated.

Gringott grabbed his arm just as he was about to take a step. "Stop, Defiant One. I am ashamed for how we have treated you."

Since Ed's intentions for finding the goblin's hideout were not exactly benign, he felt a weird sense of irony. "Oh, _now_ you're ashamed? For leaving me in _agony _for seven days?"

Gringott adjusted his spectacles. "Grukhood would not approve of my actions here. After all, it was at his urging that we have looked to you as an ally—"

"Word of advice: don't treat your potential allies like cattle."

Gringott was quiet. A steady water dripping sound echoed around the damp cave corridor. Gringott's face was lit by the harsh blue fire of the wall sconces. "In these times of war, it is hard to trust others," he whispered. "I have treated you like an enemy whilst my intention was to gain your friendship."

If Ed was not currently doing a job for Madame Corisande, he would have punched Gringott in his pointy nose and high-tailed it outta there. He considered doing it anyway. Yet, as he crossed his arms, he found himself saying, "You've never asked me how I knew about these caves."

Gringott curled his lip. It was probably from having to speak so much of the wizard's tongue. "I believe you said you went for a walk and got lost."

"If you believed that, you're more of idiot than I thought. No, I was commissioned by a witch to find out what's going on here. She's paying me over three hundred gold denier. If you want to be my ally, you've got to match it."

The goblin grimaced distastefully. "Money, yes. That I understand. With money, all wrongs are forgiven." Gringott clasped his hands. "I will give you three hundred gold and fifty silver, for your loyalty."

Ed did not really have an understanding of how much that money was worth. He scoffed, "That's it? You've put me through hell, buddy, I need recompense."

The goblin hummed. "Do you know why this war is being fought?"

Ed blinked at the change in topic. "I have no idea."

"It is because I have proposed the start of a bank."

"A _bank?"_ It was completely innocent.

"Banking is a monopoly. Only the magic-wielders have dared venture into that market. My people have been suffering from unfair treatment. I want to— no. I _will _change everything."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"You help me start my bank, I will give you your three hundred gold and fifty silver, and add one percent interest every year you remain with us."

Ed pretended to be indecisive, when in reality the deal was incredible. Before he wasn't getting any money, and now he was! But Ed still needed to get back to the Madame. What she offered was more valuable than any gold. "Make it an even four hundred gold denier, and you've got a deal!"

"Very well," Gringott said in Gobbledegook. Ed bowed slightly to Gringott, in the goblin fashion. They did not shake hands as humans did. Gringott bowed back.

"Now introduce me to the group!" Ed exclaimed. "Show me around the place! Give me all your plans!"

"All in good time, Defiant One. All in good time."

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**A shorter chapter than usual, but I feel like this is a good place to end it. We are finally getting into Time Skip area, so be prepared. **

**Fun fact, in canon, Gringotts is founded in 1474. Obviously, founding this bank is not going to be easy. **

**Next chapter we'll go find out what the hell Nick is doing over there in Beauxbatons. **

**As always, reviews are appreciated. If you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them. **


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